


The Légal Trap

by QueenPotatos



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Claude tries very hard not to fall buuut, M/M, Pining, Slow Burn, these long nights at the library weren't fruitless
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 19
Words: 181,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23097493
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenPotatos/pseuds/QueenPotatos
Summary: Claude is 18. Claude is clever. Claude has big dreams.But he won’t be able to unify Fódlan without the help of others. Building bridges is what he aims at from the very beginning and why he looks forward to his year at Garreg Mach so dearly. But somehow things don’t turn out the way he had planned them to be.“Isn’t it strange, Claude? How you dream of breaking the barriers around Fódlan, and yet you’ve built one around yourself, refusing to let people in. The more we talk, the more I realize I know nothing about you. It’s kind of…upsetting, to say the least. Do you trust me so little?”Dimitri Alexandre Blaidydd defies all his conjectures, and with each passing days his lance breaches through Claude’s most solid defence, threatening to destroy all he has tried to accomplish so far. Trust is a luxury he can’t afford at the moment but the Prince of Faerghus is sure testing his good sense.Claude thought he was clever, that things like this would never reach him with the mission he has to accomplish. He’s about to find out he’s also a man of simple things, and that from time to time he can be very stupid.Don’t get too close, they say.Don’t fall in love.…Well,Too bad.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Claude von Riegan
Comments: 220
Kudos: 313





	1. Prologue - Ethereal Moon, before the White Heron Cup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 has been update the 26/06/2020 after chapter 11 has been posted

* * *

#### Day Seven of the Ethereal Moon 

.

* * *

It’s on this bright Sunday afternoon that Claude sees the moment he loses the grasp of the situation happening before his eyes, and realizes the only thing he can do is watch the catastrophe, perhaps a little bit stunned, from where he stands, his feet solidly fixed on the ground but his head is miles, miles away, eyes lost in Blue Sea Moon’s summer sky, and he isn’t sure why but part of him doesn’t want it any other way.

Yet there’s a part of him that still hates it, being powerless like this, he hates how quickly he accepts his fate. He thinks for a moment at his young self, from a couple of moons prior only treading upon Garreg Mach’s gardens for the first time in his life; what would this Claude say if he’d known how things would turn out to be? He’d probably laugh, say something not so clever, or _‘I told you so’_ with a charming smile and a wink, before disappearing inside his room. Now it’s almost as if he can’t align two coherent thoughts while Dimitri is in the same room. Oh, really, he should hate this. Yet Claude finds out he doesn’t even have it in him to have a bitter taste in his mouth about this.

Half the Monastery is practicing for the White Heron Cup, which is occurring in a couple of days. Of course the Golden Deers aren’t exempted and it’s with a smirk on his face that Claude helps Hilda and Lorenz practice together, and watches how his rival is going out of himself to impress them, but both him and Hilda agrees the one Lorenz does this for is the heir of the Riegan’s name and eternal rival, hands down, despite the sort of fight they had the other day – because they didn’t shout like Ingrid and Sylvain do, all the time, but each friendship is different, each person expresses pain and exasperation their own way.

It’s kind of fun actually, and Claude desperately needs something to distract his mind from the trap he had built all by himself during the last moons, with his own two hands and his sharp tongue; he needs to think of anything but such gentle eyes, powerful hands and soft heart – and he should probably be so mad at himself for what he has started, because it was not in any plan or any scheme he had forged ahead, it’s even the opposite of what he is supposed to do _and yet-_

Yet it feels so good.

They are all gathered in the small garden in front of their respective classrooms, Lorenz and Hilda pirouetting rather elegantly – Claude has to give him that, at least – while Claude leans on a pillar, safe from the sunrays and, he hopes, from curious eyes. He’s luring himself as well, pretending not to notice how his gaze goes from Lorenz’s smooth dance to the other house’s members practicing next to them. The Blue Lions are all reunited more or less – and it’s kind of a miracle that Felix is there as well, who on earth managed to drag him out of the training ground ? – and practicing with each other’s except from Dedue, for reasons Claude cannot fathom. Annette swings with Mercedes, Ingrid with her Prince and Sylvain kind of pouts, there’s a red mark on his cheek that is no mystery for Claude, considering the face Felix makes just next to him. It’s all chatter and fun, but Claude can’t help but notice how stiff the two blonds are, dancing with each other. It’s odd for him, because how long have they known each other? Dimitri told him the four of them – Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, _His Highness_ – were childhood friends so why is it so painful to watch them dance together?

And no, Claude isn’t staring.

Dimitri has his prince-like smile he always wears when he feels that he should pull a front, and the efforts he puts in looking as Prince Perfect as he thinks he ought to be rigidify his spine, the grip of his hands, and it even reaches his jaw. Ingrid is not any better, but they aren’t close enough for Claude to know if there’s more underneath the surface as he’d learned to know some of Dimitri’s hidden sides - she kind of always looks serious and knightly, but he hopes she knows how to relax from time to time.

And Claude is definitely not staring, not until Dimitri stares back at least and he holds his breath, and time halts.

Or perhaps he was, and his eyes burned so much on the side of his face than Dimitri has no other choice but to enquire why he deserves such attention. Truth is, Dimitri has always been hard to look away from, but now the task turns itself to be impossible. Dimitri pulls people to him effortlessly, a steady charisma even Claude could barely fight against; and when he looks a bit deeper, behind the corner of Dimitri’s smiles and the golden locks on his face Claude could guess there’s as much light as there’s shadows surrounding him, following his every steps and thoughts, and for this latest part Claude likes to think it’s not something Dimitri willingly chose to show. A couple of weeks ago Claude had seen his darkness too but not distinctively, and even now Dimitri wouldn’t let him get a better look, and it’s frustrating as much as it’s thrilling, because there are still questions to be asked and answered; despite everything Claude needs to know, what cloth Dimitri is made of from top to bottom, check his every corner until he knows him, all of him, by heart.

Things have changed of course in moons, with how close they became; and as a consequence Claude has tried, in vain, to repress and hide his feelings in a corner of his room, as if they were unimportant, manageable, futile and doomed to disappear like steam on glass.

That’s why Dimitri doesn’t even have to pull for Claude to reach.

“You’re stupid.”

Hilda has somehow magically materialized next to him, Lorenz dancing with Marianne as they speak. Claude doesn’t usually let things like this get unnoticed – it could have been an enemy, an assassin coming for his neck, it could have been the end for him. How funny to think the so admirable Prince of Faerghus could very well be the only one to blame for his premature death.

“You’re so, very, stupid.” Hilda says again when she doesn’t manage to catch his attention. Claude realises now he didn’t stop staring because Dimitri saw him and smiled, and kind of tripped and stepped on Ingrid’s foot and then, he apologized with such intensity that made it ridiculous and chivalrous at the same time. Claude must admit that he is, at the very least, very smitten over him, but he’ll never admit it aloud and even more if Hilda is at ears.

Dammit.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is perhaps the only person in the entire country he can’t possibly fall in love with.

“I am so very stupid.” He repeats, as his steps bring him closer to where Dimitri stands and keeps apologizing to Ingrid – who is not mad, not one bit, yet Dimitri feels as bad as if he’d killed someone – to offer his hand, as well as a cunning smile.

“Say, your Princeliness, how about I show you how to dance so you won’t break anyone’s foot with your heavy boots before the ball?”

“Claude,” he says his name as if he hadn’t caught him staring, ever so polite Prince of Faerghus – oh how much Claude loves when he says his name, “Thank you for offering your help.”

And he gives him Ingrid’s hand, completely missing the point and Claude has to really bite the inside of his cheek not to scream. He gives Ingrid a fake smile – his usual one. “Well, shall we?”

Ingrid seems more uneasy than before, if possible, probably because she has sensed something Dimitri clearly didn’t. The girl isn’t as dense as she seems, unlike her future King.

As they dance Claude focuses on his steps, where he places his hands – a bit too low on Ingrid’s waist he admits, just to see, just for _him_ to see – but Dimitri never leaves his peripherical vision, it’s enough for Claude to witness his blue eyes never diverting from them. His hands get sweaty, his stomach burns just enough with something pleasant he’s not supposed to like – the thrill, the thrill, _the_ _thrill_ – and they part as soon as he finds Ingrid more relaxed in his care. He turns to Dimitri, who hasn’t moved from his spot the entire time.

“You need to guide her, and not dance like you’re on your own. Dancing is like a duet; you’re supposed to do it _with_ your partner and move as one. Now if you would excuse me,” Claude elaborates before blowing, announcing his leave. He takes, one, two, three calculated slow steps-

“Wait, Claude!”

Quicker than he thought.

“This is hardly teaching.” Dimitri complains. Claude tries to remain as clueless as possible but Goddess it does feel good when finally, Dimitri falls into his trap. “Could you please enlighten me as well?”

“Well, of course your Highness.” Claude cocks a smile just to tease, knowing how Dimitri hates when he’s been called that way – and fully knowing he’ll be back at calling him ‘ _Dimitri’_ when night comes, when they will meet in the library and walk back together to the dorms only once it’s pitch black outside. Claude joins them again and offers his hand with the exact same gesture he’s done before, hoping something in the back of Dimitri’s mind would put two and two together and realize it has been for him to take all along.

His hopes aren’t that high though, if Dimitri has revealed something these past few moons, it’s that he’s _dense as fuck_ when it concerns ‘love’ matters.

And soon their hands join, Claude enjoys the way Dimitri shyly entwines their fingers but refrains to comment on it – but oh does it itch – and how he seems not to know where to put his other hand when he found Ingrid’s waist rather easily earlier. Claude raises an eyebrow, “What? Why are you being so shy suddenly?”

It might have occurred to him that Dimitri had known Ingrid since he was very little – before Duscur, he thinks suddenly – and perhaps it’s easier to act around her than with Claude, daring and flirty Claude, who broke into his comfort zone a couple of moons ago only and refused to leave.

Nonetheless, there is something in Dimitri that drags him, makes him take unnecessary risk; it’s in the way his hands, freed of his gantlets for once, brush past his waist that it only tickles, in the way he slightly blushes each time Claude enters by effraction in his personal space and does nothing about it the next times he overpasses these limits, in the way when they are this close it’s more difficult for their eyes to meet. Could this even be real? Is this another clue Claude missed because he refused the truth? Perhaps Dimitri might like him back, and he has never wanted something more and dread it at the same time.

“There,” Claude pushes Dimitri’s hand against his waist and a bit lower, not to his hip but that’s definitely where he would want it to be in other circumstances. “Guide me.”

Somehow Ingrid has escaped and is trying _not_ to dance with Sylvain while Felix has lost against Annette’s cheerfulness, which feels like they have the place just for themselves. Claude has already forgotten what he was doing here in first place but he’s glad he came. They stand safely from one another, for Claude’s heart not to start a marathon but there’s still something missing as they start waltzing. Dimitri is crushing his hand.

“Hey, _Dimitri_ ,” he murmurs as he leans close to his ear, he doesn’t want the others to know he calls him that way, with care, with tenderness “Look at me.”

If Dimitri hadn’t looked up he would have probably grabbed his chin himself to force their eyes to meet, which would have leaded to more skin contact and possible missteps – Claude could have accidentally tripped on his own feet and surged on Dimitri and their lips could have collided in a collateral damage to avoid his ungraceful fall - but hopefully it wasn’t needed. Dimitri blue eyes search his face, not gazing into Claude’s own immediately. They raise, gradually, prudently, as if Claude could burn him with his stare only. Claude likes the idea. He likes it very much because he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s close to this level of craving himself.

It doesn’t happen that way though, not yet. Claude lets a sigh escape his lips, inaudible, and Dimitri squeezes his hand before relaxing, eventually. They get closer, they dance, and it’s painful to see how Dimitri moves better when it’s with him – or perhaps Claude only sees what he wants to see when it concerns Dimitri? And then it’s just as Hilda said, the something on-off that makes him see the world with a new light and nothing will ever look grey.

He can’t believe it, how a fool he had been, how weak of the heart to fall in love with none but Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

When did it start? How? Claude remembers going to Garreg Mach with a couple of goals in mind – studying, learning, securing his place as the leader of the Alliance for the greatest good, socializing in that extent but never, ever revealing his origins – and, if befriending Dimitri and Edelgard has been on top of his list, losing his capacity to reason while standing a feet away from the Prince of Faerghus clearly wasn’t.

If he could just lean in. Capture those rosy lips with his own, breathe into him, inhale the scent of sweat after practice, or more pleasant activities…

But he can’t. Dimitri is unreachable. There is absolutely nothing good that can blossom from the future King of the Holy Kingdom and the future Leader of the Alliance that would satisfy Claude’s heart.

Hilda eyes him with something Claude really doesn’t like in her gaze and wonders how other people feel when he’s the one staring at them that way – probably annoyed and terribly exposed. Yet, he feigns ignorance when he passes by her, knowing she’ll see right through him and take it as a signal she should not push further. They have already discussed on the matter; he knows her thoughts and she knows his.

“The stupidest of all…” murmurs she, as he disappears – or flee? – in their classroom.

If Hilda is angry at her best friend right now it’s for his own good. Claude has no idea of how miserable he looks when he parts away from Dimitri and the sight breaks her heart. She’d want nothing more than the two of them to open their eyes, but for some reasons she can’t fathom Claude is obsessed by a chimera, the shadow of a terrible fate if they were to be more than just friends. She sighs, there are time when she is not able to read Claude as well as she usually does.

When she decides Lorenz has spent enough time torturing Marianne with his noble believes, she walks to them with her innocent smile and asks Lorenz a favour.


	2. Prologue: An Inevitable Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Ah, so that’s what you were thinking Claude. And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.”
> 
> Claude almost chokes at the absurdity of it – or perhaps Dimitri is making a joke? Coming from everyone else Claude would have known they were simply making fun of him, but Dimitri gives him the impression of being immune to off-beat humour. Was he really sincerely thinking Claude would have done something like this for mere strangers? Putting himself in danger to benefit the whole? Only someone ready to do such things would consider this a possibility. And, then, Claude remembers Dimitri was the first to run after him...
> 
> Oh, shit, he would have done so. A true knight in shining armour, through and through. The Prince is a living cliché.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an article about [the Légal Trap](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/L%C3%A9gal_Trap) btw  
> Thank you for you nice comments and kudos and bookmarks so far, I hope you like slow burn - because i hate them.

* * *

#### Prologue: In Inevitable Encounter

.

* * *

Claude still can’t decide if his presence here is going to turn out into his greatest idea or his ticket for a place six feet under but, hey, there’s only one way to find out after all, right?

It’s not for all the things his mother told him about her side of the family that he accepted his grand-father’s offer to take over the Riegan’s name – an old man he never saw, for what it’s worth – but rather out of curiosity and, it’s difficult to admit, because there’s still a little boy inside his heart that wishes to find a place where he can belong. It turns out his foolish dream soon breaks itself the very day he arrives on the wall that is Fódlan. Only a few people knows about his origin and Claude doesn’t have to ask his mother who she let into his secret: it’s all written on their faces, on the disgust they don’t even have the decency to hide when they stare down at him. His skin is kissed by the sun and then? His language and custom aren’t the same as theirs, so what? Fóldians are just as narrow minded as Almyrians, but he didn’t expect that from a so called more advanced civilization. It hurts, but Claude had learned early on how to put a fake smile on his face and carry on without giving it too much of a thought in order to survive.

They don’t deserve his tears anyway.

During his first weeks in the Leicester Alliance’s territory, Claude manoeuvres rather elegantly and effortlessly around all these ‘nobles’ and, since he’s mostly alone with each days that pass, takes the time to analyse everything he can put his gaze on. Having a complete comprehension of the situation is the only way Claude can and want to turn the situation upside down to his advantage. Long ago, when he spent his nights watching the Almyrian’s sky with its moon and stars from the roof of his room, a silly dream emerges in his talented mind of his. He wishes that one day no one would receive the stares he’s been given since the day he was born, by _those_ people. Erasing prejudice, the fear of the unknown, the hate of the outsider, to destroy the walls people build around their hearts and their borders so that everyone would travel easily and meet new people, and realize humans are all the same. He thinks, at time, that he’s a bit foolish, a bit unrealistic, idealist even but Judith tells him one day that dreams need to be big if you want to see them from afar.

Judith. He couldn’t have survived a single day without her.

She’s everything a woman of honour would be in Almyra and for so many things she reminds him of his mother. She’s strong, bold, kind in her ways; for all these reasons Claude really doesn’t want to disappoint her. She’s the one who tells him about the hierarchy in the Alliance and even beyond, gives him the right books to read, teaches him one or two tricks he would have perhaps die without; she’s also the first one to introduce him to the Church of Seiros and tells him about Garreg Mach.

After hearing about the place from his grandfather a few days later he knows the upcoming year is going to be decisive if he wants his dream to work. Claude plans in the long term, and he can’t succeed if there’s any tension left between the two other forces ruling Fódlan – the Holy Kingdom of Fearghus and, of course, the Empire, the oldest one which power was given by Seiros herself, or so the legend says. Claude isn’t really fond of legends, especially if they are full of holes. In Almyra, his father used to read some to him when he was very little, but even then he could make out the differences between fiction and reality. The Church of Seiros is clearly not playing in the same playground: texts are considered to be absolute and never questioned, no matter how unbelievable they sound – and being an outsider, not having heard the same absurdities since he was born into this world, Claude might be the best person to give another look at these ‘abnormalities’, as he calls them. The Monastery seems to be the best place to investigate, since Judith mentioned a large library where she obvious didn’t spend much of her time – she’s a woman of exterior, and by that Claude means she was beating out everyone on the training ground with her sword – but also to learn more about the overall history of Fódlan.

As he gets his stuff ready for departure Claude wonders if he’ll ever have the time to do all this, but also passing his exams and meeting with all the important people he wants to build a solid relationship with. He knows he cannot change the world on his own, and he’d better start somewhere within the Alliance’s students. If he can’t win their hearts then his dream of changing the world would only be a beautiful utopia for his mind only.

He’s already heard of most of them before their first meeting; Lorenz Hellman Gloucester because of the rivalry of course, since Lorenz seems to call himself ‘the future of the Alliance’ even when Claude’s breathing the same air next to him, which tells a lot about his ambition and the too larger size of his boots. Oh well, Claude could deal with it later, but he’s not sure pretty words and a couple of winks could win the heart of someone _as noble_ as him.

Of course he’s also heard of Hilda, but mostly of his brother who has been terrorizing their Western border for years and is the fuel for at least half of the night stories parents threatened their children with - _‘Behold! The great Holst Goneril is going to chop you in half if you don’t brush your teeth!’._ Next to him Hilda seems sweet like a candy, innocent and delicate, the exact opposite of what Claude imagines her older brother to be. Yet, she’s way more than what she lets appear, and even if they did meet only once Claude isn’t dupe to her successful strategies to give all her chores to others without batting an eye – this girl definitely knows what she’s doing, and is pretty good at it.

The other nobles are girls: Marianne who barely says hi, and Lysithea, their youngest and a mage prodigy. She might be young but she’s perhaps the one who knows what she wants the most, and Claude can see himself working with someone like that well. The three other students are what they call commoners, which is a term Claude really has trouble with : Leonie is a honest girl that comes from a poor village who wants to be a respectable mercenary, and Raphael and Ignaz are old friends, sons of merchants who for some reasons ended up there without really wanting to in first place, especially Ignaz who clearly thinks he doesn’t have it in him to be a knight.

The group isn’t what he’ll call homogenic at first glance, but he hopes they can find some chemistry out of it, hoping that Lorenz will tone down the nobility speech he gives everyone he meets.

“Beware of the Gloucester boy,” Judith tells him the day of his departure. She says it nonchalantly, but Judith never talks without a purpose; he sends her a questioning gaze she pointedly ignores, a clue there is definitely more under the surface.

“I’m sure he won’t bite.” He winks and sets his bow on his shoulder, “In any case, I know how to fight back.”

“I know you do boy, I know you do.”

Despite all he’d heard over the past few weeks, despite his personal experience and his home being days away on Wyvern’s back, Claude can’t wait his year in Garreg Mach to start. There’s no better place to meet all kind of people, and even if he’ll have to navigate between them and take the appropriate time to decide who’s a friend and who’s a fool, he really looks forward to meeting people of his age and perhaps, making _friends_.

Or something approaching.

Claude is an idealist but not an idiot, someone of his status can never have something so precious. They only have to like him after all, or the image he’ll give them. After all, concealing his true identity, ‘Claude’ is an imposter; he decided long ago that the end justifies the play.

Years of fooling assassins in Almyra made him a good actor, sadly.

He departs a couple of day before the year actually starts. Being a house leader gives him more responsibilities and especially regular meetings with the teachers and other house leaders. If he can’t wait to meet all of them, his interest is particularly picked by Edelgard and the Empire as a whole, having the longest and most heavy History – the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus is unfortunately a land tainted by a bloody massacre that happened not so long ago, and even if coming from Almyra Claude has been accustomed to violence and attempt of murders early in his life, none had quite manage as the people of Duscur did. Which makes the undertaking of looking into the past of this part of the country a bit more delicate, but he hopes he can get something out of its soon to be King, depending on which cloth he’s made of.

Claude arrives first in the dorms. He’s guided to the first floor immediately by Seteth, a man who talks way older than what he actually looks, and presented himself as the right hand of Lady Rhea, the Archbishop - Claude takes great interest in how people presents themselves to strangers, it gives away a lot about them without them realizing. To his surprise his first intuition about the repartition of the rooms is wrong: there isn’t one floor for girls and another for boy, but one for nobles – the highest of course – and the other for commoners. Did they know Lorenz is coming? Of course they do.

Seteth opens his room and excuses himself to give Claude some privacy. He idles at the entrance for some time, to study the place he will spend most of the upcoming year and can’t help to find it a bit dull - overall his first impression on the Monastery isn’t as good as he had anticipated. The fact that everywhere he looks the Cathedral can be seen in the background, a reminder that they are always watched, isn’t a very pleasant knowledge either. He’d have to be clever if he wants his secrets to die with him.

After he puts his new uniform on Claude goes to the market place, where people from all horizon meet and share their goods – he sees a nice bow made of silver but unfortunately he forgot his purse upstairs, maybe next time. And it’s with an epiphany that he realizes the obvious, something he’d missed for so long: despite the yellow – Seteth had the _nerve_ to call it _golden_ – cape on his back, no one stares at him. He’s not an outsider here, in the Monastery, or rather everyone is and it changes everything. As he stands still in the middle of the place and watches the chariots and merchants walking past by him, the dust moved by their hoofs fliting higher to dirty his clothes and itch his eyes, Claude breathes in, and dreams. Perhaps it’s not as difficult as he imagines it to be. He buys a couple of chosen teas and a chess set before coming back to his room with something else burning in his chest than anger and disappointment. Garreg Mach is not a place he should judge simply by looking at it; he’ll have to live here, and perhaps a year won’t even be enough to understand the whole complexity behind the bricks that make the whole building stand so proudly.

With his arms full, Claude climbs the stairs and halts: other people are here. The other houses’ leader? There’s a female voice for sure, but he isn’t sure Edelgard would express herself in that way from what he’d read about the future Empress considering she’s shouting with anger something Claude would have rather not catch at all.

He sees a flash of blond hair shutting a door of what he guesses is the girl’s room and a redhead standing in front of it, sighing.

“Sorry about that.” He says rather nonchalantly, with a smile on his face Claude recognizes immediately since it’s one he wears all day. “I’ve never seen you around.”

“Well, you’ve just arrived.”

“Ah, touché!”

“Ignore him, he’s just stupid.” There’s a boy with an awfully sophisticated bun – one that looks that it’s been done roughly in a second when it, in fact, requires more than a few minutes – and a scowl on his face. “You must be the guy next to my door. Considering the golden decoration I guess-“ he looks up to Claude’s cape, “You must be this year Golden Deer’s leader.”

Claude sighs dramatically, if he could have had he would have dropped his belongings and raised his arms to the sky. “I have been figured out! I’m Claude von Riegan, nice to meet you.”

“Oh, yeah sorry. I’m Sylvain from house Gautier, and this is Felix from house Fraldarius. Don’t mind him, he doesn’t like anyone who doesn’t wield a sword in every direction-“

“ _Sylvain_!”

“Guess we won’t get along well then, I’m not so good with a sword myself.” Claude admits. He knows hiding his preference for archery at this point is ridiculous, they will soon train altogether after all but adding a bit of mystery to himself is an essential part of his charm.

“Well, I’m more at ease with a lance and it didn’t save him from being my best friend- hey! Felix! Come back…I guess there’s no helping it.” Sylvain looks back from the door he stand in front of to Felix’s back, hopeless. “It seems my friends abandoned me.”

“And the year hasn’t even started yet!” Claude likes Sylvain, he decides. Because like him, he feels like his smiles are as wild as the thing they’re trying to hide, because he said ‘sorry’ first and foremost, because he’s easy to talk to and somehow manage to tame that Felix, who seems a little bit more difficult to deal with.

And he laughs easily. “Yeah, you’re right, I’m not sure I’m going to survive all this. Do you need any help with your stuff?”

Claude politely declines since it’s obvious he can do fine without any help and that’s it’s just an excuse to walk along the end of the corridor together. It turns out Sylvain is a the very far end next to the Prince’s room and Felix, and then comes his own. Sylvain speaks about their journey, how they arrived a bit earlier than expected, asks why Claude is on his own – which is perhaps something that was never meant to hurt before he got here but now, for some reason it does. They halt in front of Felix’s room as Claude is about to reply, when they hear a heavy object falls on the floor and Felix, swearing.

“A sword, probably.” Sylvain shrugs, but Claude stills. Boots. A soldier is coming their way – why is that-

He’s pretty sure he hasn’t seen any knights of Seiros with a deep blue cape and this shade of blond hair though.

“Ah, perfect timing. Your Highness, let me introduce you to…Claude!” Sylvain smiles to hide the fact he didn’t catch his whole name, but it’s fine, it’s more than fine – Claude did remember every name that has been pronounced here, but it’s one of his survival habits so he doesn’t judge – yet it’s not important because why would any student here dress like he’s about to go to war? On top of his uniform and blue cape the Prince of Faerghus chose to wear a black armour, hiding away even his hands and yet his face looks so…honourable? It doesn’t match.

“Oh, I didn’t think we would meet so soon, Claude von Riegan.” The Prince blows, locks from his hair following the movement and floating in the void – a detail Claude can’t look away from for some reason. “I am Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, crown Prince of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. But if I’m not mistaken you must already be aware of that…anyway, I’ll be glad if you would call me Dimitri, since we’re all students at the Academy.”

“Alright Dimitri, but only if you call me Claude like your friend Sylvain just did a few moments ago.” He sends Sylvain a wink, to put him uneasy in front of his Prince, “But tell me Dimitri, where are you going dressed like that? Are we being under attack?”

Dimitri frowns deeply, “Not that I’m aware of. Why would anyone attack the Monastery?”

Note to self, the Prince of Faerghus is dense and can’t handle a joke. He’ll have to use other strategies to gain his favours it seems, perhaps being friend with his friends will help?

“Dedue’s not with you?” Sylvain asks out of the blue.

Another Blue Lion? Claude is all ears.

“No, he’d…rather not come here, for reasons that are his. He told me he wanted to go back to the marketplace for a bit.”

“Is he another friend of yours?” Not a noble if he didn’t belong in this floor, but why such a person would be at the Prince’s side? A protector maybe.

“Dedue is…it’s complicated.” The Prince says after a long sigh. “Let’s say I saved him four years ago and he’s been following me ever since.”

Well, that would do for Claude, he’ll have the whole year to learn everyone’s little secrets. They agree to return to their own business after presentations were made, Claude walking to his room and passing by the Prince, giving him his best smile, showing some of his very white teeth – Judith told him it was in his best interest to appear friendly, and he desperately needs friends.

He’s under the impression the Prince stiffens when he looks at his grin, but maybe it’s just in his head.

As he passes Felix’s room there’s a crack behind his back. When he turns his head, the Prince stands frozen stiff with his door handle in his hand, broken. “Ah, not again.” He pesters, visibly annoyed, and without further warning kicks the door open with one single try that sends vibration to the whole floor, before slamming it behind him in what could be interpret as frustration.

Bemused, Claude looks up to Sylvain’s room to find him gone, then at his own door handle. He grabs it, carefully not dropping all he still has in his arms. Solid wood indeed.

…How on Earth did he do that?

* * *

Days after days the Monastery gets more lively. Claude has met more or less every single students, and none had been more intense than Edelgard von Hresvelg. Rarely has Claude felt trapped at his own game and Edelgard sure is gifted with sharpen talons: the delicacy of her traits prejudices her real strength which comes from the heart. There is something, a fire that drives her; everything she does, everything she thinks, the air she breathes – she has a goal set in her mind just like him and when she looks at him in the eyes Claude halts in his own breathing because he knows _she knows_ they are the same in a fraction of second.

Yet she does nothing about it. She remains polite but cold, a bit distant even and Claude feels like seeing his reflection in a mirror, he can’t read past that. What are her goals? Are they as big as his own? It’s too soon to know, of course it is but somehow Claude has the feeling it would be difficult to force the future Empress to dig up her secret before the end of the year. She could very well be looking for a suitable husband and decided in the blink of an eye that Claude wasn’t her cup of tea after all - as well as Dimitri it seems, judging by the way she totally dismissed his tentative of starting a mondain conversation, or something approaching. Claude didn’t miss how the Prince kept looking at her during their meeting with Seteth and Rhea before the teachers arrived. Does someone has a crush already? Claude isn’t sure, it seems more complicated than that – did they know each other before meeting in the Monastery?

Only one way to find out.

“How’s your door?”

Dimitri raises his head from his tray, frowning, before his face morphs into something closer to despair. He hides it under his gauntlet. “Please, can you not mention this incident ever again?”

“Why? That was pretty…impressive.”

“There’s nothing impressive in destroying something nearly a thousand year old with bare hands.”

Claude would have liked to differ on the matter but the Prince looks so upset by this misadventure that he couldn’t risk his chance at ruining their unborn friendship over a good word. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, not the good thing to say I guess?” Dimitri keeps eating when Claude sits next to him, he looks up but no, Edelgard won’t join them it seems. “Have you met her before?”

“Her?”

Oh, he knows very well who Claude refers to and pretends not to, interesting. “Edelgard von Hresvelg.”

“Oh,” he takes some time to reply, as if he was pondering the exact words he should say, and the ones he shouldn’t “Yes, I did. A long time ago.”

Guess their meeting wasn’t as meaningful as it has been for him then. “Funny how you two find yourself here after all these years.”

“This year at the Monastery is special as Seteth told us,” sure he did just a couple of minute ago, Claude isn’t deaf yet, “With you, the three potential future leaders of Fódlan are gathered in the same year. It never happened before.”

“How lucky we are then!”

“How lucky House Riegan found an heir the moment your grandfather’s health started to decline,” Dimitri wipes some sauce from the corner of his mouth with his very white napkin as Claude remains impassive, of course he’ll get that reflection from someone as well informed as a future King, “Did you know House Riegan shares a common ancestor with the Royal Family of Faerghus?”

“Oh, no I didn’t,” he did, obviously – Claude does his homework just fine, “Does it mean we’re like, kind of brothers you and I?”

Dimitri raises his eyes to the heaven, his lips curling just a bit with something that isn’t really a smile, nor a laugh – Claude can’t see what lies behind. “Of course not, this was a couple of centuries ago.”

Claude plays it his own way, saying, dramatically, “Oh no! All the missed opportunities you’ve just crushed with your incredible strength-“

“Claude, please.” Dimitri at best seems unaffected by his act which is staring to worry Claude a slightly bit – because his usual charms don’t seem to work very well on the Prince and since Edelgard is out of reach, at least for the time being, he really needs an _ally_. “It doesn’t tell me where you come from.”

And the conversation is leading them to a dangerous place, one he swore never to adventure – not _this_ soon at least – a path he will definitively only find enemies along the way. He needs a backup plan, and quick. A distraction, the oldest trick, not the most chivalrous he concedes.

Claude plays with his plate, his finger toying with the meat. “Not here.” He replies, it’s obvious Dimitri has an idea where he _does not_ come from. Claude licks some sauce from his forefinger, his eyes never leaving Dimitri’s face when he does to distract him, tilting his head to the side to make his braid move and lets his emerald eyes finish the job, sucking on his finger with a loud pop. He knows most people here finds him exotic and he isn’t blind or foolish enough to ignore he’s not displeasing to stare at. It still doesn’t have the hope-for effect it was supposed to have on the Prince unfortunately, but at least the subject of his origin is dropped when Sylvain and Ashes join them. Claude promptly excuses himself to leave the Blue Lions together, wondering where his little Golden Deers are enjoying their meals.

Passing by the exit he nearly bumps on Dedue’s massive chest, who gives him a very sceptical look, having witness what he’d just done to his Prince seconds prior – and Claude naively thought two outsiders would side along against the oppressor! - but he guesses he too caught that little pink shade on the tip on the Prince’s ears earlier Claude is responsible of, so it’s only a fair game. Dimitri is lucky to have such people protecting him.

Speaking of protector, Edelgard also has her own guardian. He’s the only one wandering alone, totally vulnerable, within the Monastery walls! As he ponders who he could ask for this honourable task – Lorenz? Hilda? Raphael??? - Leonie comes to meet him.

“Hey, Claude ! We were all looking for you. We’re back in the classroom and Lorenz keeps talking…”

She doesn’t have to say more; they walk together as quickly as they can to save the rest of the class. Hilda has never looked so pleased to see him than at the very moment he enters the classroom. They are already arguing – Lorenz and Lysithea mostly – and it seems way more lively than any others houses from what he’d gathered so far. Claude smiles fondly, if he isn’t too successful with the rest of Fódlan young leaders, he can’t help but have great hope for the Leicester Alliance’s future, at the very least.

Just before the beginning of classes the three house leaders were asked to join Seteth in the reception hall. They meet with two members of the Knight of Seiros : Alois and Jeritza. The former is going to teach them combat while the other…

“During the year you will have to accomplish certain missions, some including fighting and leading your classmates rightfully. In this effect, Jeritza suggested a special training before this kind of situation occurs, to sharpen your skills as future leaders.”

Turns out their little excursion is a disaster. Before reaching Lemire they are assaulted by a group of bandits, splitting their group into two : the three house leaders find themselves at mercy without any knights supporting them.

Claude draws a map of the situation quickly: he’s the most agile out of the three. He knows of Dimitri’s monstrous strength already so the Prince could probably handle one or two on his own, but what about the little Princess? She does look capable and confident despite her frail silhouette, meaning there must be something up her sleeves she hasn’t shown the world yet, and today’s altercation could be the perfect opportunity to find out.

And so, Claude runs.

He doesn’t run away per see, of course, even if he has to admit from someone else’s point of view it pretty much looks like it, but it’s only a matter of strategy – they still don’t know what these people are after but considering their positions, kidnapping them for ransom is the safest bet. The bandits would certainly split running after each one of them, or at least it will slow down their plan and gives Claude more time to build his own.

“Claude! Wait!”

Claude inhales, what the heck? Why is Dimitri following him? Oh and it seems Edelgard is just a step behind, what a fantastic retreat! Now all the bandits are coming their way, and Claude will have no time to spare to study his comrades’ aptitudes in close combat!

He puts a smile on his face though, “Oh, your Princeliness! And little Empress is there too. What brings you here during my strategic retreat?”

Their antic is soon interrupted by shouts and cries from their pursuers. Claude throws a couple of arrows but his eyes soon fall on Dimitri’s and Edelgard’s training weapons made of wood. There is no way they can win in these conditions, he doesn’t have so much arrows to spare. They need to flee or find allies to fight with.

Hopefully for them, as an archer Claude is gifted with great sight. From the corner of his eyes he sees some lights, an inn perhaps, with a couple of horses and real weapons outside. Providence at its best.

“Hey, you two! Over here.”

As they run to the inn Claude can’t shake the uneasy feeling running under his skin; Dimitri and Edelgard seem so composed about the whole situation when they could very well die at these bandits hands when he can’t barely align two straight thoughts together. Truth is, Claude has been in dangerous situation before, but a sly attempt of murder, an assassin sneaking in a corner isn’t the same as a real battlefield and his legs might feel weak if he lets his head slow down just one bit.

Hopefully luck seems to follow their fate, as it turns out there are mercenaries staying at the inn. One of them runs to their leader, a tall and middle aged man with a woman at his side, with the most hideous tights Claude has ever seen. Fóldan’s fashion…

Of course – why does he think that already – Dimitri speaks first. “Please forgive our intrusion. We wouldn’t bother you were the situation not dire.” He takes his time and bows, as if they have all the time in the world to save their asses.

“What do a bunch of kids like you want at this hour?” The leader says. Exactly what Claude is thinking right now. Brilliant idea this little exercise in the woods. Or perhaps it’s all setup, to see what they’ve got in their stomach but judging by Alois’s stupor when they got attacked, he’d bet he didn’t have any idea this sort of thing would happen.

“We were being pursued by a group of bandits. I can only hope that you will be so kind as to lend your support.”

Claude wants to take his shoulders and shake him good time. They don’t have time to be so damn polite for fuck sake! They need them! Their weapons and strength!

“Bandits? Here?”

“It’s true. They attacked us while we were at rest in our camp.” Edelgard explains, which still makes little sense now that Claude thinks the problem over. This mission was very stupid. He runs a hand on his hair, a habit he can’t seem to lose when he’s a bit under pressure.

“We’ve been separated from our companions and we’re outnumbered. They’re after our lives…not to mention our gold.” That’s it, be a little overdramatic Claude. Who wouldn’t want to protect such young and good looking kids from bandits? Plus, they have gold, which could lead to a reward, which is even more motivating.

That’s when the leader seems to realize where they come from; he recognized their uniforms, meaning he has been to Garreg Mach at least once in his life-

“Bandits spotted just outside the village!” One of the mercenaries alarms them. “There’s a lot of them.”

Claude feels a little guilty for putting the village into such a situation but this was their only exit route. This gives the mercenaries another good reason to join them, which is perhaps the most brilliant part of the plan. Now, they may have a chance to come back alive, perhaps unharmed, to the Monastery.

The leader turns back to the girl next to him – she doesn’t look older than the three of them, but something feels so…ethereal, out of place, but now isn’t the time for such consideration. Claude is about to fight his first battle, his grip on his bow is still too unsure for the goal he has set in his mind and his legs aren’t as steady as he would like them to be. He still has so much to learn.

* * *

Unsurprisingly, they survive. Not without a couple of bruises – especially for his sake, his skin is delicate after all – but they handle the situation rather excellently, for his standard of battle. Claude has thought naively that he could have used this occasion to study his classmates’ talents; fate decided otherwise in putting Byleth, Jeralt’s daughter into his path. The way they handle their sword, their leading abilities – and the way they seem to anticipate everything, like that last sly attack on Edelgard, this is purely fantastic, a real diamond.

There is definitely something going on there. With Byleth by his side, Claude feels like he could achieve anything. No, he doesn’t feel it – he _knows_.

“Claude? Are you alright?”

Prince Dimitri is at his side again, his blue eyes looking concerned. There’s a scratch on his arm and he got a bruise in his cheekbone but other than that he’s fine; but he admits that next to the Prince, who is pristine standing next to him, he must look wounded, weak. How could he even look so composed? “Oh, I’m fine really! Just a flesh wound.”

“I suspected it was your first. I wanted to make sure…never mind, I overstep my boundaries I’m afraid. Please accept my apologies.” He bows again and walks to Edelgard, who is watching the mercenaries talking with Alois – he’s speaking so loud it’s not even funny to spy on what they’re saying. Seems like luck is still playing for them, they aren’t coming back empty handed to the Monastery after this little fight.

Byleth comes to join them. Edelgard doesn’t get past the opportunity – her and her sharp mind. “I appreciate your help back there. Your skill are beyond question. You’re clearly an experienced mercenary. And your father…that would be Jeralt, the Blade Breaker? Former captain of the Knight of Seiros, oft praised as the strongest knight to ever live. Have I missed anything?”

Claude frowns, he has already heard the name somewhere but couldn’t remember where – it wasn’t in a book since he’s got a perfect visual memory but did someone mentioned the man before? Judith perhaps, or was it one if the Golder Deers? Anyway, he’s glad for Edelgard little exposition, he’s learned a thing or two concerning their saviour – and surprisingly it seems he isn’t the only one. How come Byleth didn’t know their own father was a captain?

“Hey! You’re coming with us to the monastery, right? Of course you are. I’d love to bend your ear as we travel.” Use your charm Claude, use it wisely. Compared to his classmate, his silver tongue is clearly an advantage. “And, oh, I should mention that the three of us are students of the Officers Academy at Garreg Mach Monastery. We were doing some training exercises when these bandits attacked. I definitely got the worst of it…” he trails off, puppy, emerald eyes shining – even Judith couldn’t fight against that one.

“That would be because you ran off.” Edelgard stabs him just where it hurts the most, accusing him with her deep frown. She really isn’t easy to deal with, why being so serious all the time?

But it’s not enough to make Claude loses his composure, far from it – if only they knew. “Too true! I was the first one to make a strategic retreat. Everything would have worked out if these two hadn’t followed me and ruined everything.” How to put yourself in the light by Claude von Riegan, volume 13. He ignored the looks the other two send him – especially Edelgard’s, soft as a dagger. “Because of them, every single one of those bandits chased after us. Utterly ridiculous.”

“Ah, so that’s what you were thinking Claude. And here I thought you were acting as a decoy for the sake of us all.”

Claude almost chokes at the absurdity of it – or perhaps Dimitri is making a joke? Coming from everyone else Claude would have known they were simply making fun of him, but Dimitri gives him the impression of being immune to off-beat humour. Was he really sincerely thinking Claude would have done something like this for mere strangers? Putting himself in danger to benefit the whole? Only someone ready to do such things would consider this a possibility. And, then, Claude remembers Dimitri was the first to run after him...

Oh, shit, he would have done so. A true knight in shining armour, through and through. The Prince is a living cliché.

“His intentions were as clear as day.” Ah, thank you Edelgard, at least _she_ is capable. “You will prove a lacking ruler if you cannot see the truth behind a person’s words.”

Claude frowns deep inside. Is this addressed to him personally?

“Hn, You will prove a lacking ruler yourself if you look for deceit behind every word and fail to trust those whom you rely on.”

As much as Claude admires Dimitri’s soft idealism, being kind of an idealist himself, he has to admit he agrees more with Edelgard way of thinking – don’t trust anyone, or die too young trying. “Oh joy. A Royal debate between Their Highnesses.” Claude kind of feels out of the conversation and hasn’t stolen the spotlight for at least a minute, he has ants in his pants. He has a feeling it’s going to be hard for him to exist between the two of them and their not so well hidden history during the upcoming year. “I wonder how being completely predictable affects one’s ability to wield power. Personally, as the embodiment of distrust,” He stares at Edelgard, replying to her verbal attack, “I’d say your little exchange smacks of naiveté.” And winks, Claude 1, Edelgard…well, 1 too?

And sure the future Empress cuts to the quick – if she keeps frowning like that she’ll have lines around her eyes before she accesses the throne. “Me? Naïve? Tell me, are you actually incapable of keeping quiet, or is your lack of self-awareness a condition of some sort?”

Ouch, that’s a bit harsh. He isn’t sure he deserves any of it, but still, teasing Edelgard is just too fun not to do it again in the future.

“In any case, forgive our digression.” Prince Dimitri says to control the conversation again, as if he didn’t give a damn about what they have argued about – perhaps he has personal interest in mind? “I must speak with you, if you spear a moment.”

And as Claude suspected, they spend the end of the conversation trying to convince Byleth to join them respectively. Claude isn’t a fool, he knew he wasn’t the only one who feels there’s something different with the mercenary, this is just the logic of things in motion. Their conversation earlier has been a good representation of who they are as persons and leaders, so all he has to do now is wait for them to make their decision. Some things cannot be forced by any scheme or perfect winks after all.

And it’s with a bitter taste in his mouth that he accepts defeat when Byleth chooses Dimitri. On his left, Edelgard conceals as well, her fist curls at her side oblivious to all but him. Interesting.

Alois interrupts their little chat before one of them can protest about the outcome. It is dark and they need to rest before going back to the Monastery first thing in the morning. Since their camp has been demolished by the bandits Jeralt agrees they all share the same roof, which the inn keeper accepts willingly.

Claude undresses, alone in his room. The blood from his very first battle wound sticks on the fabric, and secured from anyone’s gaze he whines as he takes it off. It hurts.

Well, this won’t be the last, will it? He’ll have to get used to it.

 _‘I suspected it was your first…’_ Why does he think about this line Dimitri told him earlier, out of everything? He runs a cloth soaked with warm water on his arm, giving a second thought on what lies underneath those words. Dimitri seems like a half opened book. Naïve, earnest, showing more than he probably intent to but not clearly enough for Claude’s thirst of secrets. It was his first, meaning it wasn’t the case for Dimitri. And of course, Claude has heard of the battle two years ago where Dimitri only aged of 16, won a most impressive first battle.

And Dimitri came to him to see how he was feeling, after his first battle…

He couldn’t shake off the ill feeling that he too would have chosen to go with the Prince if he had been that mercenary, but he tells himself that’s only because he knows of himself and his dirty secrets too much. As he drifts to sleep, he thinks, oddly, that the world would probably be a better place if there were more Dimitris and less Claudes.

The thought disappears with the morning sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw it's not even slow burn it's like low temperature cooking I swear.


	3. Great Tree Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the Blue Lions focus on Edelgard – Claude realizes with a harrowing heartache Dimitri’s never spared a glance at them since they began, such a humiliation – Claude takes advantage of the situation by attacking their back lines, neutralizing Mercedes and Sylvain rather easily. In the end, it’s just Hilda, Dimitri, Edelgard and himself, but there’s all wounded except for the Prince.
> 
> “Claude, if you have a trick up your sleeve, this is the moment to impress me.” Hilda is breathless, Edelgard’s last attack almost knocked her out, she is barely standing on her legs.
> 
> He didn’t miss how Dimitri watched the girls’ altercation with great interest. An idea comes to his mind.
> 
> “Psst, Your Princeliness.” Dimitri jolts and turns to him, lance in hands, there’s something alert in his eyes that tells Claude he’s ready to fight back. Shit. Claude can feel his mouth turning dry already. “You’ve got a thing for Edelgard, right? Come on, fess up! You’ll feel better.”
> 
> He’s sure Hilda facepalms before Edelgard eventually finishes her off. He’ll say sorry later, especially since his brilliant plan fails miserably.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to tag no beta we die like glenn because it is but no I want to live I don't want to be glenn I want to be Claude and survive so if anyone wanna volunteer my DM on twitter are opened haha.

* * *

#### Great Tree Moon

.

* * *

The journey back to Garreg Mach is pleasant, the three of them questioning their new guests restlessly. Byleth and Jeralt aren’t what Claude would call the talkative type – he’ll even go as far as calling them…taciturn – but Alois talks enough for the whole group and Claude fills the blank, happy to show how skilled he can be with his tongue. To his surprise, Prince Dimitri isn’t as reserved as he thought he would be at first glance, perhaps enhanced by Byleth’s approbation; on the other hand Edelgard looks like her usual self, cold and determined, she walks a bit ahead of the three of them – still behind Alois and the rest of the mercenaries – and she’s the first one to spot the walls of Garreg Mach Monastery when they exit the forest leading to it.

They part to go back to their respective class, Claude being welcomed by the Golden Deers with a cake and a nice banner by Hilda’s doing, he recognizes her elegant handwriting, and a lot of cheers. They were all worried to death – well, except Lorenz of course, but he hides it well – so much it warms something in Claude’s chest. It reminds him that at least, if he didn’t get Byleth’s attention he’ll always have the deers on his side.

“Don’t ever do this to me again Claude.” Hilda scolds him lazily. “I won’t forgive you if Lorenz becomes our new leader.”

“Do you think so little of me? A little ambush in the middle of the night isn’t enough to scare me.”

“What happened to your cheek?” Lysithea asks, after taking a second part the chocolate cake she baked herself. “Seems pretty bad.”

“Maybe Marianne could look after it.”

“Oh, this is nothing. You should see how the other ended.” He remembers clearly how Dimitri made his assailant fly in the air with his lance, knocking him out before he fell on the ground. Claude raises his eyebrows at the memory, hurting his cheekbone in the process but it was worth it. “In any cases, this experience taught me I am definitely the best leader you could have dreamed of. You should have seen the other two, fighting bandits with brutal strength only when I had a plan all along. And guess what, it worked!”

In the end, Marianne looks after his wounds and the bruise disappears as if he had never existed in first place, which made Claude a bit sad in highlight; it was his first battle scar after all, he would have liked to remember it longer.

The news soon reaches his ears that Byleth is the prospective new teacher they were looking for since one run away while the bandits were attacking their camp the night before. Claude stands in front of his class, waiting to see them in person to persuade them again to join his side, knowing it might be his last chance. From the corner of his eyes he sees Dimitri doing quite the same; the Prince looks back, and smiles politely. Claude nods as a sigh of acknowledgment, but turns his head as soon as the future teacher passes his field of vision.

This, is war.

Yet despite his best efforts it seems there is nothing he can do against Dimitri and his weird and old fashion charisma. Byleth spends twice as much time with him than they had with Claude, asking more questions about the rest of the Blue Lions class; what do they see in them the Golden Deers haven’t? Claude frowns, truth be told he doesn’t know the rest of the Blue Lions as well as he would liked to. Annette and Mercedes seems pretty friendly but always stick together, Felix is unapproachable and since Sylvain always hangs out with him or with anything with a pair of breast, he kind of is out of reach as well. This leaves Dedue, who simply refuses to talk to anyone more than five seconds except for his Princeliness, Ingrid who doesn’t seem to like him that much, and Ashes, who is busy helping other or in the greenhouse, which is not a place Claude visits a lot, at least not during the day.

Claude sighs by the end of the day. He isn’t surprised by Byleth’s decision though. At least they avoided Manuella…Hanneman is an interesting man after all, a little bit less fun than the songstress but at least he is not an alcoholic.

Why is this school so reputed again?

Classes start slowly, Hanneman testing the water to adapt to each of his students. They need to get prepared for their first battle as a class against the other houses. The Blue Lions and the mysterious new teacher are on everyone’s lips.

“Claude, about the next battle,” Hilda follows him as they exit the refectory to hangs out just in front of the dorms – Claude halts as he spots Byleth talking to Dimitri and Dedue in front of their room. “I think I should better cheer from the back, what do you think? I’ll only be a burden, I’m so weak and unmotivated.”

From there he can see Dimitri’s smiling like he had never done before while Teach only nods and asks bunch of questions about how the Monastery works. Dedue silently watches, visibly uneasy about the whole situation but Claude can’t find a reason why.

“Plus my brother is going to be so upset if I get hurt. Imagine him, knowing I broke my nails under your command? What would he think of your leadership?”

“I personally send a letter to your brother, who replied he would be more than happy to see you grow as a fierce war lord in the battlefield.” Claude turns back his attention on Hilda, unable not to laugh at her cute pout – she really is a little princess, spoiled by her father and Holst big time. “Your strategy won’t work on me young lady.”

“Claude, you’re mean.”

“You know I’m not, plus I won’t be the one deciding on your presence,” Byleth walks away and disappears to the classrooms, Claude looks their way to catch a last glimpse of their hideous tights, but is too late. “You should try bamboozle Hanneman, I guess it won’t be so difficult.”

“I’m not trying to trick anyone, it’s just common sense! How good can I be with an axe with arms like that…”

But Claude is barely listening to her false complain, his mind focuses on reading on Dimitri’s lips whatever he might be telling Dedue for the giant to make such a face. He seems upset, and Dimitri stands his ground.

“Why are you staring?”

“I’m not staring, I’m spying.”

“Isn’t it the same?”

Claude chuckles, “Not at all! Staring is rude, my lady.” He looks back and winks, “Spying is an art.”

“And why are you…spying on those two exactly?” She asks, sceptical. She has never seen Dimitri with a lance in hands, so he understands why she doesn’t see the point but winning against him will ask more than simple knowledge. They will need a scheme, and a nasty one even. Does he still have that concoction he made before leaving home to wash his stomach in case someone poison his meal?

“Isn’t it weird that Prince Dimitri chose someone from Duscur as his protector?”

Hilda’s voice is always sweet and carefree, but her words aren’t. Claude has vaguely heard of the tragedy of Duscur before coming here; he has asked a few of the students he had befriends in the Blue Lion classes about it and every one of them had looked back at him with something uneasy in their eyes. Dedue is the definition of a bull in a china shop: he’s impossible to miss and yet no one looks at him, except for Prince Dimitri – even their group of friends seem to avoid him altogether.

“He saved him. Dimitri.” Claude clarifies. “That’s what he told me.” Is he a kind of trophy then? Something good that happened during a time of hardship? A reminder of hope in an ocean of darkness?

“Oh, already on first name basis with the Royalty, Claude! I underestimated you.”

“You’d learn His Highness explicitly asked me to call him by his first name here in the Academy. But go ahead, underestimate me all you want, I have so many tricks up my sleeves I’ll never stop surprising you.”

The day of their first battle arrived sooner than they expect. Claude felt like he hadn’t had time to breath before he had to take his training bow again – and this time, his hands shake less, but this isn’t a real fight it’s just a simple mock battle, a mere test.

Leonie walks back and forth, she has been since she’d learned she wasn’t participating, which annoys her to no end but perhaps not as much as Lysithea, and certainly not as much as Hilda who is aligned, with Ignaz – who looks like he might collapse any time – and, of course Lorenz Hellman Gloucester the magnificent, one and only, the bright future of the Leicester Alliance. Claude takes a deep breathe and thinks, quickly, of what on earth Hanneman is thinking, choosing the person he has less affinity with, the person who has less confidence in his aptitude and the most laziest person they all know for this mock battle. This is going to be a real disaster.

“Fear not, Claude von Riegan. I, Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, will erase all threat from the map with my own lance.”

Claude wants to slap his face, but refrains to, “Sure thing Lorenz. Go ahead, I’ll watch you from my hiding place.”

“Yeah Lorenz, I’ll be cheering on you super hard.” Hilda says as she joins Claude in the bush. Gosh, they are tight to the hip already, but Claude is really glad it’s her and not, Raphael, for some reasons.

Claude thought Lorenz was unique, but that was until Ferdinand von Aegir appears in front of them and that’s when he understands that perhaps this whole _thing_ he has is a ‘noble thing’. Perhaps Lorenz isn’t mentally insane, perhaps it is just the way he was raised and educated. He tries to get a good view of Edelgard each time Ferdinand shouts his name as he advances only to see her sigh and shake her head in defeat. Her right hand, Hubert, isn’t better, threatening the redhead with promise of torture and all kind of punishment Claude has never heard before, thanks to which he doesn’t want to be in Ferdinand’s shoes a single second.

As expected, Lorenz and Ferdinand rushed to battlefield. Hilda groans and calls him stupid, a clue she has more battle intelligence than the so bright future of the Alliance. This girl really is more than she lets appear, but why does she act that way? Claude refuses to think it’s only laziness.

“Ignaz, please, cover for Lorenz.”

“Su-sure!”

In the end things don’t turn out so badly for them – they’re still losing, but not as badly as Claude would have imagined. It is all sunrise and a walk in the park until Dimitri and Edelgard enters the fight, and from there things get real. The arm holding his bow shakes a bit, a reminder of their first battle, and Claude hates himself for it. He’s better than that. He needs to be better than that.

As the Blue Lions focus on Edelgard – Claude realizes with a harrowing heartache Dimitri’s never spared a glance at them since they began, such a humiliation – Claude takes advantage of the situation by attacking their back lines, neutralizing Mercedes and Sylvain rather easily. In the end, it’s just Hilda, Dimitri, Edelgard and himself, but there’s all wounded except for the Prince.

“Claude, if you have a trick up your sleeve, this is the moment to impress me.” Hilda is breathless, Edelgard’s last attack almost knocked her out, she is barely standing on her legs.

He didn’t miss how Dimitri watched the girls’ altercation with great interest. An idea comes to his mind.

“Psst, Your Princeliness.” Dimitri jolts and turns to him, lance in hands, there’s something alert in his eyes that tells Claude he’s ready to fight back. Shit. Claude can feel his mouth turning dry already. “You’ve got a thing for Edelgard, right? Come on, fess up! You’ll feel better.”

He’s sure Hilda facepalms before Edelgard eventually finishes her off. He’ll say sorry later, especially since his brilliant plan fails miserably.

“Claude, please, This is no time for idle banter.” Definitely those two were made for each other, Claude had rarely seen people so boring in his entire life – perhaps it’s how people are raised here in Fódlan, nobles are full of themselves and Royalties are dull as fuck. “Your defences are wide open.”

Boringly right, on top of that. “That didn’t get him, huh? What a shame. I’ll find a better way to ruffle him up next time.” Claude speaks to himself mostly, hoping voicing his thoughts aloud would mess with Dimitri’s strength – it didn’t. Claude hits him with an arrow but soon Dimitri counterattacks and it’s the end of the game for the Golden Deers.

To none surprise, the Blue Lions win.

“Seriously? Edelgard and Dimitri?” Hilda asks him, upset but interested – ah, gossip, that’s one thing she isn’t lazy for it seems.

“Why not? I teased him on a whim, but it didn’t work it seems…Too bad, I had a hunch.” Lysithea made some cake – again – that Raphael ate – mostly – before the mock battle ended, but it’s alright. The battle gave insight that were unhoped for before it started. Ignaz is not as unable as he seems and even he has noticed he is quite gifted with a bow in end, and quite agile – Edelgard had been unable to hit him once. Lorenz, it turns out, despite his obvious lack of self-preservation has some honour and fought until his last breathe – or so to speak – for their house.

And, Hilda Goneril. Let’s just say Claude will never upset her too much from now on, or give her an axe when she’s mad. Never again. Her strength will never compete with Dimitri’s that’s for sure, but compared to the size of their respective arms her capacities are astonishing.

He’s glad that she’s his ‘protector’, or kind of. Hilda talks equality to everyone despite her noble blood, but Claude suspects it’s more because she’s looking for people to use to do her chores than out of altruism. Yet, she doesn’t make any difference between people, and is already by this only a better person than Lorenz.

All the nobles aren’t born this way. Or perhaps it’s just the boys?

The Blue Lions are celebrating their victory with Byleth, sharing a cup and some meat. It smells so good. Claude loves banquets, it reminds him of home.

“Hey! Claude! Over here!” Sylvain is waving at him from his seat. He’s got a bandage over his arm – his doing, Claude is afraid. “You got be pretty well earlier. I didn’t see you coming.”

“It’s because I’m sly as a fox. We archers have to be agile and discreet if we want to survive.” Claude looks at Dimitri who sits in front of Sylvain. “See what Your Highness did to me? A single bow, and there was no more Claude.”

“Ah, please, there’s no need for unnecessary praising. You were already wounded.”

Polite, dull and dull all over again. Perfectly boring blond Prince with blue eyes and perfect white teeth. Claude wants nothing more but to find a crack in Dimitri’s perfect picture, and it hitches so much he forgets to reply.

“Ah! I’m so happy we won !!! But I’m also so upset I couldn’t fight !!” Annette is literally jumping on her seat, unable to stand still. Felix looks grumpy next to Sylvain, he too had to watch the battle from afar. He catches Ingrid giving him a suspicious look, she must have heard what he told Dimitri out there - sure it wasn’t very knightly but everyone fights with their own weapons.

“There will always be a next time. Don’t forget the battle of the Eagle and the Lions in a couple of months.” Ingrid reminds her, before taking another slice of meat into her mouth. The amount of it is insane compared to her body. Claude wonders how she can eat so much.

“And again we forget the best part. I suggest we change the name of that little training into the battle of the Deer, the Eagle and the Lion. What do you think Your Princeliness?”

“Why would you put your house first?” He says with a frown on his face.

“Hey, I kept the best for last,” he winks, and this time it seems to work – at long last ! – because the Prince looks back at his plate – half touched, oddly – and Claude is sure the top of his ears coloured with light pink again. Teasing with Edelgard doesn’t work but praising him does…? Does the Prince have self esteem issues? While he’s being the perfect embroilment of everything a Prince should be?

Or look like; after all Claude shouldn’t judge the book by its cover.

They all look happy, just as he was a couple of hours before with his classmates. Byleth seems at ease as well, well accustomed to their new role, but if they were happy about their victory they show none of it. As he departs, feeling he has overstepped his prerogative again – he would have never dared to intrude in the Black Eagle class as he did with the Blue Lions, but there is something that makes him feel…at ease, there with them, that the Black Eagles lack of – Claude’s eyes fall on Dedue, waiting in a corner hidden in the shadows, his eyes never leaving Dimitri. Deep inside, Claude feels sorry for him. Byleth would have never permit the other students to push him out like that, so this has to be self-punishment. Claude is certain he had done absolutely nothing to deserve such self-hate, seeing how Dimitri brings him everywhere with him. He kind of wants to shake him and says that he should not be paying for something he didn’t do personally, but these kind of thoughts will bring him close to something that hurt in the past and still hurts with each passing second, something that hits a little too close to home. Claude walks away, but not without feeling a bit guilty and a bit of a coward.

When night comes, Claude climbs on the dorm’s roof to watch the stars. He almost falls asleep but is soon awakens by Sylvain’s laugh. It must be late, he’s being dragged by Felix and Ingrid, Claude watches them taking the stairs and – where is Dimitri?

It’s silly because he most likely went back without them, their little group isn’t as homogenic as they all pretend it is after all – Sylvain, out of the people, calls Dimitri _His Highness_ in front of everybody – but Claude can get the feeling out of his chest. It’s right there, the crack, he can feel it under his fingertips but can’t see it clearly yet. Where would the Prince go in the middle of the night?

Claude walks on the roofs, from the greenhouse to look at the harbour and the – empty – market place, to the sauna and trainings grounds. Nothing, not a single soul lives in the depth of the night.

He’s alone, with no one to watch him he realizes. He’s all alone.

Claude smiles truly. The night is his playground.

He pursues his idle ballad on the hights, careful of where his feet land. The Monastery is silent, calm, perhaps a bit too much. In Almyra, there’s always insect or snakes or birds crying all night long, to the point where it’s nearly impossible to sleep with open windows – meaning during the summer it’s almost impossible to rest at all. The constant noise ends up being reassuring in a way he can’t explain, and Claude finds himself unsteady by the utter silen–

Someone is coming.

He hides behind a chimney. The shadow on the pathway lengthens with the moonlight only to reveal Edelgard walking past the Knight’s Hall and then turns left, back inside where Claude loses her track. What is she doing here at this hour of the night? Assuming she’s most certainly coming back to her room, Claude rushes back to the dorm’s roof as silently as it is humanly possible, in vain. Even after longs minute, the Princess is nowhere to be seen, her secret kept with her disappearance.

As cold gains his arms and face Claude is about to call it a night, when he makes a funny discovery – he smiles, almost laughs at the absurdity of the situation. Despite the curfew the three house leaders decide to walk around in the depth of the night, Claude realizes as he watches Dimitri coming back to the dorms. He wouldn’t be surprised if Edelgard appears side by side – but she doesn’t, which is still a bit upsetting.

Testing his luck, Claude jumps from his hiding place just behind the Prince as he is about to climb the stairs. He only slightly jumps, “Claude.” Utterly disappointing.

“Your Princeliness, fancy seeing you here. A little rendez-vous maybe ? I hope it went well.”

Dimitri shakes his head, still awfully straight in his boots when he just as suggest a possible love life, as if he was also immune to matter of the heart – as much as matter of…fun, for example. “I am afraid I do not dwell on these kind of nocturnal activities, unless some…others. Might you be some of them to stride along the roof as fresh as a daisy when the night is this advanced? Could you be hiding from an infructuous encounter?”

“Oh! No! Mind you,” Claude laughs, truly this is the funniest thing Dimitri told him since they’ve met. “There isn’t such a thing as getting turned down when you’re Claude von Riegan, trust me.” He says with his cocky smile and flirty gaze, implying he has way more experience than the Prince on that particular field when they might be at the same level from what he had guessed so far, to his own despair. “I was just looking at the stars since I was unable to sleep. And you? Where were you?”

Dimitri has absolutely no reason to answer, except for the fact that Claude did give him an explanation that he alone can decide is sufficient or not; as expected the Prince never fails Claude, looking at his knees full of dust before replying with disarming honestly, “I was praying. In the Cathedral.”

Well of course Claude would never thought he was doing such a thing in the training ground – Felix, on the other hand…

“So you’re a fervent of the Goddess yourself.”

“As a lot of people in this country.”

“Setting the example, I see.”

“Ah, hm,” Dimitri’s eyes go on his knees, missing the way Claude smirks; again the good old trick of telling a lie to get at the truth worked. “Not only. I do pray for myself, rather regularly.”

“Oh, and what do you pray for? If it’s not, like, too sensitive…”

“I pray for…” Dimitri trails of as they walk together to their rooms, “For those who are dead, and who are dear to me.”

Claude waits for the rest of it but it’s all the Prince is willing to give, at least for tonight. It is no surprise when one knows the trauma Dimitri went through at such a young age – Claude notices how he still uses present tense.

“I’m sorry if it brings back harsh memories, that was not my intention…by the way, have you seen Edelgard?”

Dimitri frowns, “No, should I have? You seems rather curious about Edelgard. Do you have…some kind of blossoming affection for her?”

This time Claude laughs wholeheartedly – Dimitri can really be funny at times, even at his expense. “Oh no, not one chance. I’m not the kind of person to cling on someone who I can’t benefit from, and you have to agree with me that our little Princess isn’t the kind to scatter herself for the trivial matters of the heart.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed you define those matter as trivial, all of the people.”

“Why that?” Claude asks. It is always interesting to understand why people see such and such traits in his person.

“Well,” Dimitri seems to look for his words, “You seem…to enjoy being with people. But now that I reflect on your own words, it could be that you are spending time with people before you expect somethings from them.” Claude bites the inside of his bottom lips, oh well, this is not really a huge secret is it? “I wonder what exactly you are trying to benefit from our nocturn conversation.”

“To be honest? Nothing, this was just a hazard meeting. I didn’t expect you to be here, as you never expected to be seen. Oh, and I also saw Edelgard coming back from outside the Monastery. Another happy hazard…”

He catches Dimitri smiling for just a second before he brings his gauntlet to his chin. “You saw Edelgard in the middle of the night? How…curious…I’ll try to ask her about her comes and goes, if I have the opportunity.”

Claude halts as he reaches his door, wondering if Dimitri noticed he isn’t being followed anymore – it’s almost cute that it takes him a couple of more steps and turns around in panic, rushing back to Claude’s side to finish their conversation.

“I doubt she will ever want to share those kind of secrets with you, unless…unless you two are way more close than I suspect?” He murmurs as he lifts his eyebrows.

Dimitri huffs, then sighs, “I’m afraid I won’t satisfy your curiosity this time. We’re not…close, or anything approaching.”

Claude doesn’t miss the hint of deception in the Prince’s voice, and chooses to keep this information in the back of his head for now. Another crack.

“Well, I guess we should both call it a night.”

Dimitri agrees, yet before leaving Claude has a feeling he wanted to add something but withdrew at the last moment. After the door is closed, Claude leans on the massive wood, thoughtful. Is this something he is missing out of the picture already?

Who knows about those two? Who can he trust to ask?

Not so much, he’s afraid. He’ll try Lorenz tomorrow.

The statue is of perfect Almyrian style but instead of bronze, the artist used white marble – perfect, immaculate. Claude doesn’t remember how it ended in his Academy room or why Judith is here – and why she is wearing her war clothes.

“What are you doing boy?”

Claude climbs on the pedestal. The statue is just a bit taller than him. He claps his palm on its shoulder, it’s cold. “It’s here. I know it’s here but it’s too small to see.”

“Claude, what are you looking for?”

“The crack!” He exclaims, his hand runs from the collarbone to the chin, his thumb caressing the Prince’s bottom lip – Claude inhales then blocks, his eyes raise to stare at Dimitri’s face shining with white marble. “I can’t see it but it’s here.” He breathes.

He needs to find it – no, of course he doesn’t, he just wants it bad, so very bad and he can’t even begin to fathom why. Claude’s hands explore all of Dimitri’s cold naked body frenetically, but under his palms there’s nothing but smoothness and perfection, not a single default.

He needs to find it, he needs to find it, he needs to find it, he needs to _know._

His hand go to his back, slowly travelling down hard muscle, toned by years of training with a lance, they travel down to his lower back and further to his bottom where the skin here is the softest, the warmest-

The skin is warm under his palm, against his chest, against his forehead. Claude leans against the heat, one of his hand cupping the Royal arse while the other steady itself on his hip. His face rests on the Prince’s cheekbone, lips against his jaw and Claude whines. “It’s here,” he breathes in his ear, “I’ve found it.” And he grasps Dimitri’s skin again, but somehow his hand is taken away by a firm and painful grip on his wrist.

Claude opens his eyes.

“What are you doing, Claude von Riegan?”

Dimitri, flesh and blood in his arms, looks down on him with eyes blue and cold as the northern see.

It takes Claude a couple of days to be able to look back at them after he wakes up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you were wondering yes I am transposing and yes I'd really like to grab Dimi's ass.


	4. Harpstring Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I hear you’ve been tasked with hunting down bandits, right? Meanwhile, my class is stuck with a downright peaceful mission.” He tries not to sound disappointed, but the bitter taste in his mouth still lingers, “Sounds like you’ll be fighting alongside the knights too. Don’t let the monastery down, Teach!”
> 
> In front of him Dimitri tsks at what he probably considers a lack of respect, to which Claude responds with a cocky smile – he’s on autopilot mode, trying not to think too much but it’s failing poorly, especially when Dimitri turns his attention to teach, showing him his sides. “We have only just arrived at the academy, and we’re already being sent out to take care…”
> 
> Dimitri’s words are lost in Claude’s ears. The hem of his cape flirts with his backside on his left side and leaves the right one wide open, with no room for interpretation – and Claude is terrified at the accuracy of his dream, how and when did he manage to get so many details of the Prince’s private anatomy? He knows nothing get past him but still, he wishes sometimes that some things remain in the depth of his subconscious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oopsie this chapter is almost 7k and the rest is even worse.

* * *

#### Harpstring Moon

.

* * *

When distracted, or on edge, or when there’s definitely too many thoughts in his mind to keep sane – which, absurdly, has been happening quite too often for Claude’s liking lately – the head of the Golden Deers can always find solace in his first love.

Archery.

Claude looses his third arrow; it hits the target but not exactly where he would have wanted, a sign his mind isn’t at peace yet. It’s trivial, really. Lorenz is perhaps a bit more difficult to handle than what he had expected at first but he’ll manage, Claude has had to tame worst people than this honourable noble. Marianne still refuses to talk to him, but he’s got Hilda on the case. The rest of his class is rather enthusiastic and gives him little worry – Ignaz is still reserved, and kind of avoiding Raphael which is weird because they are supposed to be friend and Lysithea…there is just something he can’t put his finger on. Everyone has their own motivation but their youngest classmate seems to take this really _really_ seriously – more than Claude himself, and he has a _big_ dream.

The fourth arrow barely hits the target. Claude curses, he won’t be able to change the world if he’s so distracted by-

“Oh, hum, may I join you?”

Claude puts down his bow; he’s not surprised to see Ashe by his side – he’s heard his light steps before he announced himself. “Sure! The more, the merrier.”

As Ashe draws his bow next to him Claude can’t help but bite his lips and look away. It’s not Ashe, or the Golden Deers, or the fact that they were gifted a very annoying and peaceful mission after their poor performance at the mock battle last moon. It’s…

He can still feel it under his palm. The softness of the Royal Bottom against his hand.

He remembers this dream as clear as day and each time he doesn’t control his stupid head he remembers-

Blue eyes cold as ice, a dagger to his pride.

Ashe looses but the arrow ends up in the field. He hears him sigh.

“Look, you need to open your chest more, and look at your feet!” Claude uses some of his time to help Ashe with the basis, which are always what he tends to forget when he was younger. “Remember, you don’t pull with your arm.”

After a couple of shot Ashe makes undeniable progresses while Claude stagnates, unable to get rid of this uneasy feeling under his skin.

“I’m sorry if I disturbed you,” in the end Claude was so tired of his mediocrity that he spent the last part of his free time helping Ashe the best he could – and it eased his mind a bit, just a bit, because after all Ashe is a Blue Lion- “I’ve been watching you practice before. Ac-actually, it took me some time to dare to practice alongside with you.”

“Hn? Why that?”

“Because,” Ashe looks at his feet, “Because you’re very talented, I admire your rather unique style. It really inspires me to do better.”

“Oh.” Claude doesn’t know what to say. Nardel taught him everything about weapons, he was practically born with a bow in his hand. “Thank you, I guess?”

“And Felix keeps telling us we shouldn’t have anything to do with you since you only have business with people who you can profit from,” What? Felix?? “So I was rather happy that you helped me so naturally, since I have absolutely nothing to offer but praise.”

It almost forces Claude to halt not to trip over his own feet. When did his reputation get this bad so that Felix, all of the people, would say such things?

“Did I upset you? I shouldn’t have say that…I’m so sorry.”

Ashe lowers his head again, but Claude wouldn’t let him feel bad for such a good action. He claps his hand on his shoulder, enthusiastically, “On the contrary! I can never thank you enough for this interesting piece of information.” He needs to talk to Sylvain, “But please by all means, who Felix tries to oust me from?”

After learning Felix’s family is known as the field of Faerghus, the answer isn’t that surprising.

He finds Sylvain parading in front of the empty classrooms with some girls – there is something reassuring in Sylvain, he never disappoints. He’s rather easy to understand on the surface, and this is exactly what Claude needs – his depth hasn’t picked his interest yet, but it’s just the beginning of the second moon after all.

“Claude! My friend!” They aren’t. “What do you want?” They truly aren’t.

“Hi Sylvain. Can’t I say ‘Hi’ to my dear friend? Who helped me first and foremost at my first day at the Monastery?”

They get along well as professional bluffer with their smiles larger than life, but Claude just wants an information and Sylvain, well, it’s always easy to give Sylvain something he wants.

“Ladies, let me tell you something. This guy is the nicest of all the Academy. The best of the Blue Lions-“ He sees some of the girls giggling and avoiding his gaze, wondering if someone was coming behind without his knowledge – but no, it’s not that.

“Well, perhaps after Prince Dimitri.” One of the girls says, blushing adorably with pink on her cheeks and neck. Both Claude and Sylvain exchanges a distress gaze, a mix of exasperation and bemusement, and while the girls keep talking about the Prince and his ‘cute smile’ and ‘strong arms’ and ‘beautiful eyes’, Sylvain sizes the opportunity to escape with Claude in his Golden Deer’s classroom.

“They’re all the same. They all want something from me…just like you, but at least you come clean from the start.”

“Does this reputation I have come from you then? I was surprised when I heard Felix-“

“Ah, yes, probably my bad. I didn’t mean to harm, if I did…well,” Sylvain shakes his head, he truly seems sorry, “It wasn’t intentional. You don’t seem like a bad person.”

“I’ll take this as a compliment. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

He eventually asks if Felix told Dimitri to stay away from him. The question comes naturally but even so, asking burns something inside his mouth – is it shame? Embarrassment? Something else?

“Of course he did. Felix might not show it, but he really cares a lot for His Highness. He’s just…it’s difficult for him after what happened to his brother, they were never really the same after the tragedy of Duscur.”

Claude nods as if all of this isn’t fresh news, hoping Sylvain wouldn’t see past through.

“But you shouldn’t feel threatened; even Dedue told him to be careful of his interactions with, well, everyone, but you particularly and I don’t think he quite listens to him. But we do all care about him a lot, so you’d better be careful.”

“You know Dimitri broke his door on the first day?” Claude reminds him - Sylvain laughs, he remembers, “I was there when he did that. With his bare hands. Trust me, I don’t want to make him mad, I really don’t want to.”

“But we’re all wondering what you want from him.”

And again, Dimitri has said something of the sort this…night, he recalls now. “Friendship? Is it too much to believe? That two of the future leaders of this country get along for once?”

“Friendship you say. Huh.” Sylvain repeats as if he doesn’t want to believe it himself. “Well, good luck then. I don’t know if you’ll be able to get what you seek.”

Claude lets Sylvain escape to his previous activities, wondering why he tags along all those girls asking him question about the Prince without flinching, but also how he could be so obvious of what he believes Dimitri needs the most. From the outside, the future King of Faerghus looks like he wants to bound with his peers before his ascension to the throne, yet the majority of the Blue Lions already treats him as their King regardless of his own wishes – which tells a lot about their insubordination, but from what he had seen, as chivalrous as they seem, the small group of Dimitri’s so called childhood friends is difficult to handle.

Not that he should, or does care about all this anyway. It’s just that studying dysfunctional group of individuals have always been a fancy of him.

* * *

After another week of boring teaching and nights spent on the roof, or in the library – or reading in his room until the morning sun tickles on his window, when Tomas catches him sneaking in at a very inappropriate time – Claude wakes up stiffed and restless, having answered to none of the mysteries he had overlooked so far. Their first mission is soon approaching, but escorting a group of merchants to the Leicester Alliance hasn’t been part of his ideal exciting adventure.

And on top of that, the sauna is still closed.

Claude sighs, taking the stairs back to the dorms – or he could spend some time in their classrooms, perhaps studying with a bit of light will make it easier and damages his precious sight a bit less-

“Claude!”

Dimitri stands before him – Dedue silently watching them as he leans against the wall behind the Prince – and waves with a shy but sincere smile on his face. Despite the voice inside his head urging him to run for his life, Claude finds himself incapable of not walking to greet him. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

For sure, Claude avoided him for weeks, hoping to spend his nights in peace. “Well, I was busy with, you know, life at the Monastery. Being the head of the Golden Deers isn’t a walk in the park, but I guess you’ve figured that out yourself. Are the Blue Lions giving you any trouble?” Do they even dare to oppose their future King?

“I’m afraid some are…a bit difficult. I’ve had to scold Sylvain one time too many. If only he was taking things seriously…he could be such a good knight for the Kingdom. Such a waste of potential is upsetting at best.”

“I bet he can’t beat Hilda on that particular field.” She again managed to give Ignaz all the chores Hanneman gave her during the whole week. The whole week! Claude will never cease to be amazed by her capacity to suggest the help from others. “We all have our little difficulties to handle I guess. I’ve heard you’re about to lead an expedition against the bandits who attacked us back in Lemire?”

“That is correct. I thought our mission was confidential, but I am not surprised someone like you manage to be informed of such matter.” Claude frowns just a second, how come all the Blue Lions have such a high opinion on his sly abilities?

“Actually Ashe told me when we were training last Sunday.” This information had been earned with sweat and patience, not by any scheme of his own!

“About that, I cannot thank you enough for your help.” Dimitri blows, his hand on his heart. “You have my gratitude. I’m afraid none of us are trained for archery, I wish I could help Ashe and Mercedes more about their skills.” Claude smiles politely, wondering where all of this is going, as Dimitri speaks quickly again. “In any cases, if any of the Golder Deers need any help with lance training I will gladly offer my help.”

There’s a part of Claude which wishes he wasn’t this suspicious at all time, a part of him which would accept Dimitri’s offer as genuine, pure and free of any second thoughts. Yet Claude is who he is, he doubts and doesn’t trust anything but his own guts and so he wonders why the sudden kind offer. Felix probably told him about his nasty opportunism and accordingly, in lights of Claude’s behaviour of helping one of his classmate, apparently without any ulterior motive, Dimitri decided to offer Claude something in return before Claude can ask for something else he would want from the head of the Blue Lions.

Despite his thoughts, Claude pulls on his brightness, laughs and eyes warm like the sun, “Thank you Your Princeliness. I’m sure Lorenz would be absolutely thrilled to practice with you. As for Leonie, I doubt she will want any help, she keeps saying to whoever ask her she’d been trained by Jeralt, the best man who ever were to exist.”

“Is that so?” Dimitri looks surprised, it is tiring to be able to read every single ones of his emotion in his eyes. Too bothersome indeed. “In that case, I clearly doubt I can be of any help I’m afraid, my…skills are really far from the Professor’s father.”

“How is it? To be trained by our mysterious mercenary I mean.”

Claude has been very curious of Byleth the moment they appeared before his eyes, he tries not to think too much about them since he lost to Dimitri – could it really be called losing? – but at least, with the rest of his inquiries on close end it couldn’t hurt to learn a thing or two. He knows the Prince will give in anyway – he looks so bright, so proud and happy that they chose his house to teach, he won’t be able to shut up about it, at least, in his shoes Claude certainly wouldn’t.

“It’s great so far. Really interesting. Despite their youth, the Professor have-“ and speaking of the devil, looks who’s getting out of their room. Dimitri falls silence but his face morphs into an idiotic smile, one Claude imitates on the spot when the professor salute them both.

“I hear you’ve been tasked with hunting down bandits, right? Meanwhile, my class is stuck with a downright peaceful mission.” He tries not to sound disappointed, but the bitter taste in his mouth still lingers, “Sounds like you’ll be fighting alongside the knights too. Don’t let the monastery down, Teach!”

In front of him Dimitri tsks at what he probably considers a lack of respect, to which Claude responds with a cocky smile – he’s on autopilot mode, trying not to think too much but it’s failing poorly, especially when Dimitri turns his attention to teach, showing him his sides. “We have only just arrived at the academy, and we’re already being sent out to take care…”

Dimitri’s words are lost in Claude’s ears. The hem of his cape flirts with his backside on his left side and leaves the right one wide open, with no room for interpretation – and Claude is terrified at the accuracy of his dream, how and when did he manage to get so many details of the Prince’s private anatomy? He knows nothing get past him but still, he wishes sometimes that some things remain in the depth of his subconscious.

He must be staring, because if Dimitri and Byleth keep talking as if he weren’t there to begin with, Claude can feel Dedue’s accusing glare on him without meeting his eyes. Turning his head to the opposite and running away from these Blue Lions, Claude sees a kitten near the training ground’s entrance and rushes to pet him. It’s as much as a good excuse as anything else he’s ever tried, isn’t it?

He takes the poor animal, which hasn’t asked to be Claude’s perfect escape route, into his arms. He breathes again when Dedue looks away.

“Oh! What an adorable kitty! Claude I didn’t know you liked cats.” Hilda trots to him with small heart in her eyes, unfortunately not for him Claude is afraid – and while she pets its head and the cat purrs against his chest, Claude risks a very brief glance back at him and no, apart from Dedue no one noticed he has gone.

* * *

Linhardt falls asleep on his crestomancy book for the fifth time this night, and Claude is more than tired of waking him up. “Linhardt, you should really go to your room. This isn’t a dormitory.”

The black eagle only groans, Claude shakes him a bit harder. “Linhardt.”

“M’okay, okay…let me,” he stirs and yawns, his eyes injected with blood. “Let me finish this chapter and-“

“No.” Claude takes the book from his hands. “You’re not even in shape to take it back, so call it a night.”

To his bewilderment Linhardt leans on his seat and crosses his arms behind his head, nonchalantly, “What’s the point? I’ll sleep in class anyway.”

“And what does Manuella think about this? Or the little Princess?”

“I don’t care about what they think about me. I only came here so I can fulfil my researches.” Linhardt looks back at him with something like envy in his eyes, which really doesn’t suit him at all. “I would have loved to work with Hanneman, you have no idea of how lucky you are.”

Claude is about to reply he’d love to work with Byleth more but hey, life doesn’t away flow your way, but another idea comes to his mind. “Why not change classes and join the Golden Deer?” After all, even Edelgard shows great respect in Linhardt intellect, and it is clearly something the Alliance will need in the future.

Claude is hopeful when he doesn’t deflect his proposal immediately, but then, “I guess I’ll think about it. I’ll have to ask Caspar first.”

As he watches his back when Linhardt eventually leaves the Library back to the dorms, Claude reflects on how every students in the Black Eagles have different priorities. He’s met Linhardt many times at the Library and always when night came; they spent hours reading on opposite side of the room until Tomas, probably awakened by his slowly swelling prostate, would chase them back to their respective rooms, only to come back half an hour later with the same vigour and curiosity. If Linhardt devours sciences books, Claude sticks to history, as well as biographies of famous leaders to have a perfect grasp of Fódlan’s politics. It’s funny how Linhardt always wonders how he could stay up so late without sleeping all day afterward, but he’s clever enough not to reveal his tricks – he sleeps fifteen minutes every four hours on heavy nights, not all days and not every time but it helps a lot not to fall asleep when Hanneman starts rambling about crest and genealogy.

Linhardt only cares for things that interest him, he’s the definition of a free mind: politics, duties, nothing unsettles him, not even Edelgard’s warnings. Claude admires him at times, if only he could be so selfish. His friendship with Caspar comes out of nowhere and yet Claude isn’t really surprise, opposite attracts each other and truth be told, Caspar and Linhardt are like night and day – or rather the other way around. Claude hasn’t had the chance to interact with many Black Eagles but he likes talking to Dorothea from time to time – she clearly declared she was looking for a husband for reasons Claude thinks are irrelevant, but he isn’t in her shoes so he shouldn’t dare any judgement. She’s way more nicer now that they warm up a bit, her loathe for nobility has something endearing – especially when Ferdinand and Lorenz try to talk to her. Try is the key word.

Ferdinand is as tiring to be with than Lorenz but one of his noticeable quality is that he never shuts up about Edelgard, which turns him into a mine of information at low price for Claude: he just has to push on the right button. That being said, Ferdinand spends so much time exposing his rivalry with the future Empress that Claude barely has the opportunity to see who Ferdinand really _is_. It is regretful, really, that it’s the same for Bernadetta who practically lives recluse in her room.

Out of all the Black Eagle students Claude enjoys Petra’s company the most, for obvious reasons. They have so much in common but he cannot, will not share why with her. She’s so different than any other people here and she never tries to hide it, unlike Claude who disguises himself head to toes to fit in Fódlan – he envies her too, at times, but then his survival instincts kick back in. He realizes too that Petra might be in a difficult position as well, with her grandfather being Brigid’s King, her presence in the Empire despite their bloody history must keep her country at bay, at best. And Petra is clever, she must have noticed – yet, she only speaks greatly of Edelgard as well.

Things are always more complicated than they appear to be, especially people, and that’s why Claude likes to study them so much – he likes to anticipate and to be right, in order to always have an escape route under his sleeves in case his life is put on the line. Yet, he doesn’t have any plan B concerning Edelgard and Hubert.

If the latter gives up evil energy waves, with the kind of eyes that would have no problem to kill him if it were necessary, Claude still finds the future Empress more impressive, the real deal. If Dimitri’s physical strength impresses him the determination in Edelgard’s eyes is, he decides, just as powerful and destructive. It takes a lot for his survival instinct to overpower his curiosity with one glare. If his own guts urges him to get away from those two, Claude will happily oblige; he just hopes he won’t be in their way, he or anyone indispensable to achieve his goal.

Leonie comes to him on his daily nap. “Hey, Claude! That’s where you were hiding.”

Claude jumps, he hears someone shifting up in the tree – Petra, certainly – and looks up, a move that doesn’t get past Leonie – she looks up to but doesn’t do anything about it. “We need your help. It’s Raphael’s birthday soon and we need you to distract him while we can prepare the classroom and make some cakes.”

He already loves his classmate for all the things they are willing to do for each other. “Of course, if I can be of any help…”

And there’s nothing Claude loves more than throwing parties.

The day is perhaps the best that have been yet since he arrived at the Monastery. Everyone is happy, polite, smiles – even Lorenz is playing it nice, but Hilda told him there’s a rumour running around, that he’d been scolded by Byleth for being a bit too…forward with the fair sex lately. It’s so hilarious his belly hurts at the end of the day. Teach even came to give the man of the day some flowers. The cakes are delicious thanks to Lysithea, but she admits she’d received unexpected help.

“Annette and Mercedes were already using the kitchen. Did you know it was Annette’s birthday last week? And Mercedes’s is next week too! They’re practicing new recipes Annette got for her birthday!”

As the day reaches its end the classroom empties, Hilda of course has mysteriously left the crime scene while everyone is busy cleaning – Leonie has to shout at Raphael for giving a hand, there’s no way she will let him work on his birthday. Coming back to the Library Claude sees Mercedes walking on the bridge leading to the Cathedral. Praying, he guesses. He remembers something Dimitri mentioned something the week before, about Mercedes being an archer too – he runs to her, “Hey! Mercedes!”

Turns out Annette was walking right in front of her too. “Oh Claude! How was the party? Lysithea told us all about it!”

“It was great, thank you! You could have joined us, you participated after all.”

“Ha ha!” They both laugh, specially Annette who looks like a real ray of sunshine, “That wouldn’t have felt right. It was your celebration as a class, we wouldn’t want to interfere.”

“And we already have something planned with our classmates. But we’re really happy we could help you have a nice time.”

“The pleasure is ours. I wanted to thank you for your kindness. Dim- His Highness told me you were practicing archery?” Mercedes nods with a healing smile on her face, “I could teach you a thing or two. I’m already practicing with Ashe, you could tag along as well! My pleasure.”

“Is that so? Thank you for your kind offering.”

“Mercie! I think His Highness is waiting for us!”

The three of us turn around to face the Cathedral’s entrance; Dimitri stands with his shoulders high and neck proud on top of the stairs, his eyes on them – on him, Claude realizes. He must be wondering what business Claude might have with these two.

Claude sends him a smile and a flirty wink before coming back to Mercedes – before he can see if he had any impact on the Prince’s perfect composure. “I wouldn’t want to slow you down, by all means join your Prince before he scolds me again!”

“I won’t forget your offer Claude, thank you again.”

“Yes! Thank you for helping Mercie!”

Claude doesn’t leave without a last look for the Prince, happy to find out his gaze hasn’t divert from his face yet. He doesn’t risk another wink though, the rigidity of his board shoulders tells him it is not appropriate time to push his luck.

* * *

The merchants arrive in the morning right on time. Their first task is to unload then load new merchandises before escorting the lot back to Alliance’s territory. Leonie is thrilled, since they’d certain pass by her village. She can’t help but feel proud.

“By the way Claude, what are you doing here?”

By here, Leonie means with the rest of them preparing the horses and putting heavy package on carts.

“Isn’t it obvious? This is our mission, as appealing as it is.”

Surprised by Leonie soft laugh, Claude looks around and soon figures out the meaning of her words – most of the nobles aren’t helping. Well, Lysithea can be excused with her constitution she wouldn’t be of any help, but Hilda and Lorenz are happily doing nothing tiring, only watching and giving orders. The only exception is Marianne, who’s helping with the horses, but the girl talks more with animals than any humans it seems.

“Well, what can I say? I have two arms and ten fingers and I know how to use them.”

“He’s got them too.” She says harshly, obvious accusing Lorenz of being _this_ noble. But Claude has another take on the matter.

“Look, I don’t want to sound rude or to ever say something nice about Lorenz, but take some time to observe what he really does.”

Leonie sighs, it’s only because it’s him and she likes his casual attitude, despite his position in the Alliance, that she obeys. And so she watches Lorenz giving orders to everyone and even-

“Lorenz! Where do I put this one already?” Raphael asks.

“Here with the second cart. Ignaz, could you please make sure the preparation is ready? We also need food and water for the journey back.”

“Right Lorenz!”

Leonie frowns, because she knows where’s Claude is going. “That should be you.” She says instead, unable to recognize her defeat. “You should be leading, not him.”

“He isn’t. I told him to do this, so technically speaking if I’m leading Lorenz I’m leading everyone.”

He still hasn’t solved the Gloucester problematic but this still could wait a bit. From what he has gathered so far, Lorenz is doing a terrible job at being liked from others, which could only turn to his advantages in the near future; but remains the problem of his father and their strategic position near the Empire’s border. He still hasn’t forgotten about Judith’s warning…but can’t think of a reason to suspect the noblest of them so far. Claude is just a suspicious of him as he is of anybody, no more no less.

Lorenz is clumsy because of his belief, but his feelings are genuine. He does really wish for what’s best for the Alliance, and Claude is afraid he’s gifted with his father’s agenda by people assuming before knowing who Lorenz really is at heart. It doesn’t take to be a genius to understand why the animosity toward him: Lorenz has been promised the earth by his father before Claude landed with his Wyvern and pulled the rug from under his feet unannounced. He willingly admits Claude is the most suspicious people out of them all – in the Golden Deer at least – and if he were in Lorenz’s shoes he would probably react the same.

No, he definitely would.

Claude just has to show him he can be trusted as a leader, that he’s better, but also that they can work together to achieve their goal. When Lorenz will be comfortable enough around him to understand they both have the Alliance’s best regards in mind then perhaps they can enjoy a cup of tea together without shouting.

But that will require a non-neglectable amount of time.

“Can I be frankly honest with you?” When Leonie isn’t? “I’m glad the Alliance chose you. You’re approachable and easy to talk to, you don’t make differences between people depending on how they were born,” yes she’s right, everyone is as much of a threat. “We need someone like that to lead people, someone they can love and identify to.”

Claude internally wants to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, he wants to cry how much it aches to know that if they knew who he really was, no one would want him as a friend, even less as a leader. No one could identify with him. No one could love him.

“Hello Sylvain.”

Claude is taken out of his dark thoughts by Hilda’s voice – she’s annoyed but manages to hide it, she uses the same tone whenever Lorenz initiates a conversation – and Sylvain’s presence, lance in hand. He’s just politely wishing the girls good luck on their first mission, has a small word for Claude as well but he can’t decide if it’s out of curtesy or because of a beginning of friendship. In any case, Claude is glad: this is exactly what he’s trying to achieve so far, being seen as someone worth of trust and acts of kindness.

He doesn’t miss a spot of blond hair above Sylvain’s shoulder. The Prince looks sad, lost in thoughts before their departure. There’s a shadow on his face Claude has never had the chance to see before – but the frown is soon replaced by a smile as Annette offers him a cake she baked, and Dimitri smiles before taking a bit. Claude can’t help but stare, stunned by how easily he switched between the gloomy atmosphere surrounded him and the cheering Prince, the one in every books he meets all the expectation of, and how all of this never seems fake.

“Don’t worry about us, the Professor is with us, as well as the knights.” Sylvain waves before joining the rest of the group – Ingrid is waiting for him, they’re bringing up the rear together – before Claude can fathom why he has had the need to reassure him. As long as Teach is with them, nothing wrong can happen.

Call it luck or fate but both their classes come back at approximately the same time back at the Monastery. Claude was going back from a talk with Rhea when he stumbles on Edelgard and Manuella, ready for their own mission – something to do with a broken bridge in the Empire’s territory, Petra told him.

“Good evening Professor, and you too, Edelgard.”

“Claude. I’ve heard you’ve cleared your first mission perfectly. I’m impressed.”

Is she making fun of him again? It was a pacific mission after all. Why must she always been aggressive even when making compliment? “Thanks, but I have to admit it was rather calm and uneventful. Even a three year old would have completed the task easily.”

“I’m afraid I have to object. Your leading ability has been praised by Hanneman earlier. He told us you handle all your classmates perfectly according to their abilities and affinities. This can only be the fruit of a brilliant mind.”

Claude smiles still as he incorporates all these new information. “I am nothing but honoured at your praises, especially since I’m not used to such kind words coming from you.”

Edelgard frowns, it’s just so easy, “Claude, can you stop being impossible to handle for a second?” Of course he won’t.

He does wonder though if Edelgard publicly acknowledging his tactician skills is a good or bad omen; she might now consider him as a potential threat depending on her own goals if he were to be too brilliant for her own liking.

They part ways; Claude is about to join the rest of the deers to the – guess where – refectory where Raphael literally ran to as soon as they arrived when another voice catches his ears.

“We’re finally back. I’ll leave the report to lady Rhea in your hands, Professor.”

Claude’s instinct tells him to hide from their view for now. He knows who’s about to collide.

“Huh…Edelgard.” Manuella stops in her track, forcing the future Empress to do so as well. “Does the Black Eagle House have a mission to see to? Remember on a real battlefield, one can never tell what’s to come. You can never dismiss the possibility of the worst case scenario. Take care, Edelgard.”

Oh gosh, this is so soppy. Where did the Prince learn to speak like that?

“There’s no need to state the obvious Dimitri. But tell me…why the concern? Perhaps you doubt my ability?” This was bound to happen, Claude almost feels bad for Dimitri – his words had no chance to be well interpreted, the Princess doesn’t want to be pampered. “If so, your lack of insight is disappointing.”

“That’s…not what I’ve meant.”Claude admires how Dimitri still stands on his legs proudly as if unaffected by her aggressiveness. “If I’ve offended you, I hope you’ll accept my apology.”

“Don’t worry about it. Professor, we must hurry.” She comes as quickly as she goes, again, sparing none of her time. “Everyone’s waiting on you.”

And with that she’s gone. Funny how Claude follows her track but Dimitri doesn’t. This is unexpected, did he do the math wrong?

“I suppose I should be off to! Try not to let her get you, Dimitri, I promise there’s no need for concern.”

As soon as they both depart, Dimitri finally lets his guard down, his head dropping to the ground. Claude is about to intervene to cheer him up – and take advantage of this rare and precious moment of weakness to get information or at least to gain some friendship points out of the Prince – when Byleth oversteps.

“Puppy love?”

Claude snorts. Even Teach isn’t blind. Time to dwell on your secret Prince Charming.

But Dimitri laughs too! A bit oddly even. “Haha, now that’s a lark. I had no idea you had a sense of humour Professor.”

Sounds like an excuse from someone who’s smitten for Claude but let’s get past that. It’s the justification that comes after that really picked Claude’s interest.

“I’ll tell you more about it…some other time.”

Meaning there _is_ more to it, as Claude suspected! What could it be then, if not romance? Why would Dimitri feel the need to be sure of Edelgard’s well-being?

Claude slides along the wall to find the perfect place to cut through Dimitri’s pathway and surprise him before he has time to compose himself. Interception in three, two, one…

His boots resonate on the pavement.

“Some other time hn?” Dimitri jumps, Claude just adores surprise effects. “How about now? What’s that you’re hiding?”

“Nothing of your concern I’m afraid. How did your mission go?”

“Smoothly. And yours? According to your triumphant grin I can only guess you handled the situation just well.” His praising don’t make him as uneasy as it did in the past, too bad, Claude has to adapt. “Where have you been?”

“To the Red Canyon, south from there.”

“Oh,” Claude has read about this place bunch of times, always wondering why it was called that way. “Is It really red?”

“I’m afraid not,” Dimitri shakes his head as if he was to blame for that, man, why must he always behave as if he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. “But something…earie emanates from the place, yet I can’t quite put precise words on it. The Professor seemed to be quite bemused themselves.” Dimitri says, still walking to wherever he has planned to go, not minding Claude’s presence or giving it any credit – he’s probably leading them to the Cathedral, Claude realizes.

“Nice to know. Now back to business. Edelgard.” He blocks the Prince’s way with an arm, corning Dimitri against the wall. “What are you two hiding?”

Dimitri sighs, he looks visibly tired but not upset yet. “Nothing. You have nothing to worry about.”

“There’s no need for concern hn?” Dimitri sends him a severe look, ah, they’re getting at it. “As the future leader of the Alliance I have the right to be worried if the rest of the forces of Fódlan were to, I don’t know, make alliance against my back? Perhaps you believe the Leicester Alliance to be weakened by the arrival of an unheard new leader who might cause a vague of chaos and insubordination?”

“Claude! Of course not, I’ve never thought that of you.”

Someone should really knock him back to sense. Of course he wouldn’t think of this improvisation as an opportunity, but nobles from the Empire certainly did. “I’m not saying that if the Empire and you were to join forces and march on the Leicester Alliance’s territory we might be overpowered, because I don’t want to give you any idea but if, if, the idea comes to your mind I might as well leave the boat to Lorenz and come back to where I come from.” Ah, Dimitri looks interested again, him mentioning his origin. “So I need to know.”

“Claude, I promise you, there is-“

“Are you two getting married? I mean, a political marriage of course.”

Dimitri’s jaw drops. He isn’t even flustered, just, flabbergasted.

“…Hello? Fódlan to Dimitri? Damn did I break him? Dedue’s going to kill me.”

“Of course not!” he’s so shocked it’s even cute; Claude wonders why though, the idea is far from being a bad one if one were to unify Fódlan as peacefully as those kind of manoeuvre can be. “This can never happen.”

“Why that? Oh,” Claude tries to look sad, poorly manages, “She turns you down already?”

“No! This…Look, I can’t tell you but there’s a very good reason-“

“You’re already engaged? Man, all those girls in the Academy are going to mourn if the new breaks – I promise I won’t tell anything-“

“Claude.”

“Or is it that you don’t like girls?”

“Claude!” Here he’s flustered.

“I got it all wrong!” Claude leans on Dimitri’s vital space on a risky gamble – he does remember a bit too vividly how his hands can destroy…anything, and what his chin looks like from this close. He’s not very happy with himself so far because now, he smells Dimitri’s sweat after their battle and it’s not a scent he would have ever wanted to remember. “Imagine then, the two of us, united, striving for the greatest good.”

Dimitri facepalms, locks of his hair escaping his hand. “Claude, you’re purely impossible.”

“There won’t be anything to stop us, not even Edelgard and the Empire. Think about it, would you?” He winks, grins when Dimitri can’t meet his eyes through his fingers. He’s hiding his blush with his under his gantlet and the shadow the Monastery gives him but Claude can still see the tip of his ears and there’s as pink as Hilda’s hair.

“I won’t. This is utterly ridiculous. How can you…” He looks for words, he seems so out of himself.

Claude just laughs, knowing when to end a joke. “Alright, I give up. I guess I don’t match your standards. Try to be nice with me for the rest of the year, my broken heart might not handle another rejection coming from you.”

That’s when Dimitri straightens his back and sends Claude the most deadly glare he’s had the mischance to receive in his entire life, matching his mother’s. Oops, maybe he’d taken him too far.

And yet when Dimitri passes him – he’s really going to the Cathedral to pray – when he steps into the light, Claude is certain he sees the shadow of a smile on his Princely lips.


	5. Garland Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hey, Your Princeliness.” He walks nonchalantly as friendly as he can, a hand on a hip, smile wide as the sun – he doesn’t know why he keeps the act when Dimitri can see through it, at least the first layers. “Tough day, hn?”
> 
> “What do you want, Claude?”
> 
> As expected, but Claude really wants to be friendly tonight. “A chat? See how your doing? Remember when you ran after me in Lemire…”
> 
> Dimitri eventually turns to him, raising his eyebrow – Claude’s heart aches, why does he look so surprise. “Are you…trying to comfort me?”
> 
> “Oh please, I’m not that pretentious. But I’ve heard of what happened and, I thought, maybe you would want to talk about it without someone outside your class.”
> 
> Someone who would talk to Dimitri and not to His Highness.
> 
> Dimitri tenses as he considers his proposition, but there’s no way he can’t turn him down – Claude is good at finding what people want the most, and right now, even if he might not be aware of it yet, Dimitri needs a friend.
> 
> And that’s exactly what Claude is about to propose. Be his friend.

* * *

#### Garland Moon

.

* * *

“Despicable.”

Claude is tying up their classroom, cleaning the black board of Hanneman’s unreadable notes no one actually understood the sense of expect for Lysithea. He’s trying really hard, but it’s difficult not to _hear_ Lorenz’s voice.

“How can a noble have such a behaviour? It is his noble duty to protect the people. By engaging in a battle against the Church of Seiros he is putting the common folks in a dangerous situation on top of compromising his position in the Kingdom’s nobility.” Claude wants to add that Lord Lonato will surely meet his death by the end of the moon and that he has then little care about his reputation, but his survival instinct tells him to remain as quiet as possible. “This is utterly disgraceful. It is a shame the Kingdom cannot hold its nobles, something of the sort would never happen within the Alliance’s borders or in the Empire.”

Of course everyone has heard the news: a rebellion on the Western part of the Kingdom, against the Church of Seiros. Apart from the timing, everything about it feels awfully wrong and Claude as a trained schemer couldn’t help but see all the potential threads leading to something greater, more complex. From the teachers to the students, everyone in the Monastery thought so, but the high Monks and Seteth and Rhea remained prudent on the matter, at least for now. Even Dimitri, who is clearly not the best at giving insight, found the prospect quite hopeless.

“The Kingdom is recovering from a massacre and hasn’t had a real leader for four years. Things will only go back to normal when Dimitri gets on the thrones.”

“I hope so. Though things won’t magically resolve when his reign starts I’m afraid. It takes time to unify a country.”

“The Kingdom isn’t the Alliance Lorenz.” Claude puts the last piece of paper in the garbage, Lorenz hasn’t even move from his place, leant against his desk, and has watched Claude do all the cleaning by himself. “The people of the Kingdom of Faerghus are already loyal to their future King.”

“Is that so? How can you be so sure?”

He wonders how someone so blind could possibly be one day a leader of such a great territory as the one of Gloucester. “Just open your eyes Lorenz. Have you only watched the Blue Lions?”

“Not as much as you do that’s for sure.”

Claude frowns, but they leave that matter at that. There has been something unfriendly in Lorenz’s tone he isn’t sure he likes, but fighting about such trivial things will only bring him trouble and nothing to gain but auto satisfaction. Which can be nice, from time to time but not if the fragile balance he manages to maintain in his house has to pay the price.

It turns out he can’t really prove Lorenz wrong the next day when he finds Ashe already training as the sun rises. Claude is usually the only one using the archery field at this hour, he wonders why the sudden changes. He can see from where he stands Ashe has barely slept the night before. He bows his arc recklessly, misses all of his tries, it is clear he is unwell and coping – Claude can see a couple of reasons why, but he has to ask.

“Ashe, what’s gotten you?”

But Ashe says nothing, takes another arrow instead and forces on the cord – Claude has to stop him, his fingers are bleeding. “Ashe!”

“It’s just, so, unfair!”

Rarely has Claude seen him so terrible. There’s birth of tears in the corner of his eyes Claude guesses are more from despair than from rage, which does not suit someone as kind and gentle as Ashe well. “Are you referring to the rebellion in the Kingdom?”

They sit against a tree, the one Claude usually uses to nap under after his afternoon practice. There, Ashe tells him his story, the misery, his life in the streets and of how Lord Lonato saved him.

“This can’t be happening. Lord Lonato is such a good man. I can’t believe he’s rebelling against the Church.”

“You know, sometimes good people do bad things.” Claude can’t help but say this utterly platitude that would make no one feel better, but truth be told he doesn’t know of the Kingdom’s politics enough to make any safe bet at this point. Ashe could be wrong, blinded by his adoration for his adopted father, he could have missed all the signs of a future rebellion.

“Our class has been mandated to help the knights on this mission. His Highness was so kind to ask me about my resolution…”

It doesn’t come as a surprise; Claude still remembers how the Prince ran after him when the bandits attacked them in Lemire, how he came to his side after the fight. Of course he would ask about Ashe’s will.

“And what did you decide?” Claude has a feeling he already knows. Ashe doesn’t look like a person who would run away from his problems.

“I’m going, of course. I have to see it from my very eyes…I won’t believe it otherwise.”

The rest of their training goes on smoothly. Ashe relaxes watching Claude train without bating an eye, still sitting silently against the tree. Even with his eyes on him – and Ashe is quite concentrate on his every moves, Claude can feel it quite intensely – his arms don’t quiver. His arrows meet their end each time. This might be his best since he came at the Monastery.

“Pretty isn’t it?”

Claude is observant. He noticed how, since they took the path back to Garreg Mach, Ashe couldn’t take his eyes off of his bow. “Made of silver, I got it in the market place a couple of days ago.”

“Oh, I see…”

They stumble on Shamir, who shortly salutes them as she passes by. Ashe barely smiles, very uncommon of him.

Claude has a hunch.

“Yeah, I know what you might be thinking. ‘That thing really isn’t for me. Too expensive’.”

“What are you talking about Claude?”

“’And Claude has already been nice enough with me already, teaching me his best trick, listening to my complains, he can’t do anything more for someone as unworthy of his time as me. I won’t even dare to ask him anyway.’”

Ashe slows down on his track, bemused, “I really don’t see where you’re going.” He says, and of course he doesn’t.

Claude hands him the bow. “Here,” he adds when Ashe doesn’t nothing to take it.

It takes some more second before the information travels to his brain it seems. “You can’t be serious! Claude this is…it’s too expensive!”

Claude rolls his eyes, he doesn’t want to think about how good he is at reading the Blue Lions and about Lorenz’s words from the day before – of course no he doesn’t spend too much time with then! “It’s not a gift, I just let you...borrowing it, for this month’s mission. It’s important for you isn’t it? And I’ll let you know we’ve been assign to a boring pacific mission again, so I’ll definitely won’t miss it.”

The unexpected gesture gets Ashe speechless for the rest of the day.

* * *

It is rather unexpected to see the Prince in the library at this late hour of the night.

Usually Dimitri would come before his night training just after diner, while there are a couple of students still – Lysithea of course, but also Ingrid and Petra, Hubert from time to time. Ashe used to be there but since the new of Lonato’s rebellion, he’s been living on the training ground. Today Claude saw him with Annette in the bright afternoon, it seems they were looking for recipe again and that’s how Claude learns about Sylvain’s birthday.

But tonight Dimitri is looking at the History section of the library, and particularly at the Empire’s section – he knows because Claude has read all the books from that shelter already, it took him three weeks but it was worth it.

“Can I help?”

This is probably none of his business, actually this is even very stupid of him to reveal he has an extent knowledge on that part of the library because why would he, and people will start to ask question he certainly doesn’t want to answer but it’s Dimitri, after all, there’s high risk he’ll stay obvious – and it’s _Dimitri_ , Claude doesn’t know why but he is standing next to him before he could elaborate a decent thought.

“Oh, Claude. Thank you for your kind attention, but I shall be fine by myself.”

Claude hums in response; it seems Dimitri doesn’t want to show what he’s interesting in and he can only acknowledge his prudence. He goes back to the table he shares with Lysithea, Linhardt is trying not to fall asleep again – he hasn’t moved in a couple of hours, Claude is certain he hasn’t eaten all day – and Dimitri is still staring at the bookshelf, his forefinger on his chin and eyes focused, lips part opened in wonder-

Lysithea kicks his calf under the table. He gasps, Linhardt wakes up from his nap. “What was that about?” he hushes.

Lysithea sends a look behind her back, to where Dimitri stands, unaffected by their antic, then to a dumbfounded Claude. “It’s rude to stare.” She whispers.

“I’m not staring,” Claude rubs on his calf, she did hit hard, “I’m spying.” How couldn’t they see the difference? Knowing what kind of book the future King of Faerghus is interested to – and about the Empire! – is of highly importance and could give them a certain advantage in future politics matters.

“I thought spying was supposed to be discreet.”

Ouch, this one hurts, but perhaps she isn’t wrong on that one – but Dimitri never seems to notice when his gaze lingers a bit too long for classmates, so Claude guesses he’s safe, at least for now.

All in all, what he will remember is that thanks to Lysithea intervention he will never know the answer he sought – Dimitri sits on the opposite side of the library with a couple of books in hands, and he’s too far for Claude to spy on which ones picked his interest. He’ll thank her later.

* * *

Unexpectedly Hanneman isn’t such a bad teacher. Claude has to admit his reserve were unfounded when the entire class pass their certification hands up. Everyone find a field they’re most comfortable with, which ends up, inevitably, with a feast.

Everyone is enjoying the meal, even the Blue Lions – Ashe is trying to cheer up but his usual easy smile is gone. After they eat to their heart content, to Claude’s surprise everyone is gathered around Sylvain – and not just the ladies - sitting at a table, playing chess.

Claude sneaks between Petra and Dorothea to have a look. Sylvain is playing with the white, easily winning against Ferdinand. Each present students cheers for their house’s representative but there’s no hope for the Black Eagle; who could have thought Sylvain was this good at chess?

“It’s a gift from Felix.” Sylvain tells him when Claude takes the seat in front of him as a new opponent. He looks around, Hilda is the only Golden Deer around and she’s too busy chatting with Ferdinand to cheer for him. Too bad he will shine on his own. He takes the black.

“Where is he by the way?” The rest of their childhood group is nowhere to be seen, not even Ingrid who usually never loses sight of Sylvain during those kind of events.

“In the training ground I guess? He’s always there, but this time even I get why.”

Claude raises an eyebrow. It seems the whole assembly cares more about the game than what they can be saying, which is a configuration Claude is rather comfortable with – Sylvain already made a bad move, he’ll win in a dozen of rounds or so.

“Catherine. He wants to see her fight and see her Relic I guess.”

“Oh.” Another mistake, Sylvain he going to lose real fast and hard. “I have to admit I’m curious myself, I’ve never seen one before.” His grand father told him about them, about one he will have the privilege – the honour! – to hold when the time comes. “You’re lucky to go on a mission with her all of a people. You’ll learn so many things we won’t.”

“Not everything is a competition Claude.” Sylvain moves his fool on the other side of the board. “Mat.”

Claude saw that coming of course. A couple of minute later the tables have turned. Claude places his Queen two cases ahead of the white King. “Check mate.”

Sylvain groans, but admits defeat eventually after a good ten minutes of debates and desperate try to save his King. “You’re too strong for me. Should have figured, I remember you bought one of these the first day we arrived at Garreg Mach.” He says. “I think that’s how Felix and Dimitri got the idea, so I think I owe you a thank.”

“If I can be of any help.” Claude is about to stand up and leave his seat when Sylvain laughs at his phrase – he isn’t buying this one bit, but looks like he doesn’t care. Sylvain can be difficult to grasp at times.

They end up organising a tournament between classes, 3 participants per houses. Sylvain plays with Annette and Mercedes who are forced to participated due to the lack of Blue Lions present at the moment, Ferdinand somehow manages to drag Linhardt into this – along with Caspar, that’s the price to pay – and, well, Claude would have like to play with Ignaz and Lysithea but Lorenz doesn’t let him that chance.

In any cases, it turns out it is fun to watch him lose, especially to Linhardt who puts absolutely zero effort in the game but killing it – he’s a natural, he can only imagine how enraged Edelgard must be knowing she has a diamond at arm’s reach but can’t carve it at her own will. It’s only because he falls asleep halfway into their game that Claude beats him in finale. It only half taste like victory, but the look of disdain on Lorenz’s face is enough for his satisfaction, at least his time hasn’t been lost in pure leisure.

The fresh air of the night calms him and his busy mind, the stars and moon his only way of emptying his thoughts in order to find proper sleep – at least for a couple of hours. He’ll have a free day tomorrow but he still has so much to do, to read. His room is already filled with book he stole at the library, some he bought to a suspicious merchant, there are enough to cover the surface of his bed – they actually do, now that he thinks about it.

His steps bring him high in the air again; Claude has an idea in mind – he wants to see it too, the Relic of lady Catherine. Is she still training with Felix? Was she even to begin with? Only one way to know.

Well, it appears Sylvain has been wrong but how could he blame him? It was only a guess based on his knowledge of the person he calls his best friend and something of hazard, since he couldn’t predict where lady Catherine would be. The training field isn’t empty though, even at this late hour Prince Dimitri is training with Ingrid and Dedue is watching over him like a baby sitter. Claude almost laughs when inevitably he breaks his lance with by hitting the ground – a flash of a broken door handle comes to his mind – and he can’t but be glad Ingrid managed to dodge this bow. How much strength can a man hold in his hands?

“You.”

Claude jumps. Hadn’t he recognized the voice he would have probably fallen on the floor.

Shamir is deadly silent when she moves. He fears her as much as he admires her – but he’ll never let her know.

“You should go back to your room.”

She doesn’t have to tell him twice.

Spending the night with so many people permitted him to take the temperature within the different classes; and even if he wishes they could have such thrilling missions as fighting alongside the knights of Seiros, after seeing how tense and worried the whole Blue Lion house is, he’s happy nothing that serious has happened to his Deers yet.

Dealing with Ashe’s sorrow, the rebellion, knowing the entire future of the Kingdom relies on his shoulders…it must not be simple to be the future King of Faerghus, Claude reflects. He wonders how well Dimitri sleeps at night, and secretly wishes he does just as poorly as him.

* * *

There’s no need to ask how awful the mission has been when the rest of the Monastery welcomes the Knights of Seiros back from the Kingdom’s territory. If Catherine wears a frank smile the same can’t be say for the rest of the group, and especially the Blue Lions – except for Teach who has the same blank face, but this never changes. Ashe’s eyes are red and swollen, a sign of his adoptive father’s demise that speaks louder than any word they could have shared. There’s something grey and ugly on everyone’s face that leaves Claude assuming the worst case scenario occurred. They had to fight. They had to kill. They have innocents’ blood on their hands.

The fact that the Church approves of those kind of missions – _students_ killing _dissidents_ – leaves a bad taste in his mouth. There’s something utterly wrong in letting children fight for a cause that’s not their – it’s cruel, indoctrination at best. Lady Rhea won’t ever look the same under his outsider’s gaze.

Lorenz brings him the news while he is apparently too busy reflecting on the Church’s morals.

“Lord Lonato’s dead. It seems the Prince personally took care of it.”

Claude feels his stomach twist, chooses to ignore it. “That’s utterly regrettable, to think he had to raise his lance toward his own people.”

“It seems Lord Lonato gave them no choice. I’ve heard Lady Catherine found a missive on his dead body. A letter, asking for Lady Rhea’s head.”

Ah, the plot thickens! Claude thinks – almost says it aloud, but voicing his excitement at the very moment isn’t exactly a safe move. But as suspected, this vendetta isn’t over, it’s just the beginning of something greater and perhaps even more dangerous.

After their own mission is over Claude cheers with the rest of the Golden Deers in the dining hall, before heading to the Library where he expectedly finds Dimitri still searching though the History of the Empire section with a gloomy look on his face – the same all the Blue Lions wear. Claude wonders if it’s how he’ll look after he’ll kill someone for the first time.

He needs to be tougher than that if he wants to be a leader.

“Here, Linhardt. Have some tea.”

He’s already given some to Lysithea and put her to bed, so at this hour Linhardt would be the only nuisance. The mage eyes him quite suspiciously – and quite rightly – before accepting his justification – he messed up the tea and he doesn’t like this one. It helps that he chose Linhardt favourite, but that’s a secret he’ll keep to himself.

After a few minute Linhardt is fast asleep and Claude knows he won’t wake up until the sun rises. Time for his plan to start.

“Hey, Your Princeliness.” He walks nonchalantly as friendly as he can, a hand on a hip, smile wide as the sun – he doesn’t know why he keeps the act when Dimitri can see through it, at least the first layers. “Tough day, hn?”

“What do you want, Claude?”

As expected, but Claude really wants to be friendly tonight. “A chat? See how your doing? Remember when you ran after me in Lemire…”

Dimitri eventually turns to him, raising his eyebrow – Claude’s heart aches, why does he look so surprise. “Are you…trying to comfort me?”

“Oh please, I’m not that pretentious. But I’ve heard of what happened and, I thought, maybe you would want to talk about it without someone outside your class.”

Someone who would talk to Dimitri and not to _His Highness_.

Dimitri tenses as he considers his proposition, but there’s no way he can’t turn him down – Claude is good at finding what people want the most, and right now, even if he might not be aware of it yet, Dimitri needs a friend.

And that’s exactly what Claude is about to propose. Be his friend.

He doesn’t really know how friendship works still but he’ll figure out by looking at all the dysfunctional friendship out there and cutting the bad to keep to good.

“…I guess it…can’t hurt. To talk.”

“Of course not. What harm a couple of words can make?” Deep inside he laughs at the absurdity of all this, Claude is well aware words can’t be deadlier than Dimitri’s lance but the Prince isn’t it seems, and doesn’t need to – not before he lets Claude slip in his inner circle, not before he trusts him. “How is Ashe?”

“Terrible, as you can expect. Ashe is really a kind person, only wishes for the well beings of people, a true knight heart and soul. Being forced to attack his old friends…it has been devastating for him.”

In the end, giving him his silver bow might have not been the greatest idea of all time, considering Ashe must have used it against the villagers. Who knows what kind of feeling he might have kept from this gift, and by extrapolation, to Claude?

“You don’t seem so well yourself, if Your Majesty will excuse my rudeness.”

“Claude…” The Prince sighs, his head falling on his torso, “I assume you’d have forgotten what I told you the first time we met.”

Claude can’t help the tiny rictus from the corner of his lips, the Prince took the bait, he really needs a friend. “Okay okay, my bad. Dimitri. You look like shit, just like the rest of your pals.”

Dimitri almost chokes at the sudden change in language, but that was precisely the point. Everyone just talks to him like they all have a stick in their asses – to imitate their future King perhaps? – so Claude will be the wind of change, show him things he’d never seen before.

Dimitri looks at Linhardt a bit uneasy, probably because of how Claude decides to address to him. “Maybe we should-“

“Actually there’s no need to worry about Linhardt. Come with me, I brought us something so we can have a long chat.” Claude motions him to the table he occupies, passing past the poor sleepy Linhardt, “Oh, and if I were you I wouldn’t touch that cup.” He adds, when he sees how Dimitri’s eyes linger on the unfinished teacup.

“Wh-Claude! What have you…” and he sighs again, his face going from outrage to accepting in the blink of an eye – he desperately needs a friend tonight. “Fine. Well, no it’s not.”

“Ow come on, live a little! It’s inoffensive. I’ve tested it on me a couple of time and see I’m still alive.”

“It’s not what I’ve- you’ve tested on yourself!?”

“Let’s say I…have unconventional hobbies.” Claude takes the chess set from under his chair, loudly puts it on the table. “So. Sylvain told me you didn’t know how to play.”

Dimitri remains still just in from of his own seat, eyes fixed on the chess board but not really looking at it – Claude studies his face for a moment, there’s no doubt the Prince is thinking hard. Is he already regretting is choice? Has Claude revealed a bit too much of his personality for his likings? It’s double of quits anyway, Claude doesn’t think he can really be friends with someone if he even has to lie about such simple things.

He tilts his head on the side, his braid falls from his ear. “Dimitri?” he tries to speak as softly as possible.

It works. The Prince jolts, and any doubt that might have lived in his heart had somehow vanished with his name being told. “Sorry.” He sits in front of Claude and watches as he puts the piece of the board. “Felix bought something like this for his birthday. Is that yours?”

Claude nods, he puts the last paws on his side.

“I guess that’s why it looked familiar. You had it with you when we met at the dorms.”

“I’m flattered you remember such trivial things your Highness.” Claude says then winks; Dimitri looks away with ears tinted with pink – Claude can’t say he isn’t proud, but he needs to manoeuvre more carefully. He cannot misstep on that one. “Sorry, sorry, I know you told me to call you my your name, but as you might have guessed by now I like to tease.”

“You can tell it’s quite obvious indeed.” Dimitri has a little cute frown on his face, a sign he isn’t as mad as he wouldn’t like Claude to think.

“So, I wasn’t supposed to tell you but Sylvain asked me to be your coach, he’s tired of loosing to me and he would like an opponent of his calibre.” A blatant lie but one Dimitri will gladly believe.

“How does it have anything to do with chatting?”

“Relax, you’ll see. Playing chess isn’t just a game. It makes you…think differently. You’ll have to see for yourself. Do you remember how to move the different pieces?”

It turns out he does. Claude chooses the black and lets Dimitri advances first. A beginner’s move.

He smiles when, a couple of minute later he takes one of Claude’s paws – and stops immediately when he sees Claude is smiling too, visibly content of himself.

Claude takes his bishop.

“Chess isn’t just advancing your piece and taking the first paw you can. You have to always think one, two, ten moves ahead. The goal is to take the King, whatever the cost. It’s called Check Mate.”

Dimitri seems to consider his words. “Whatever the cost…” he repeats quietly.

“Of course it’s just a game, the pieces won’t die if you take them, they’ll still be here for another game.” Dimitri moves his knight, a bit too hastily, he’s running right into Claude’s trap. “But it is good practice for schemes and learning how people work. You, for example,” Dimitri raises his head, he was about to move his Queen – really a bad idea – when Claude caught his attention. “Considering your physical ability one would think you would play chess as you run into battle: carelessly.”

“I’m not-“

“You are. But you’re stupidly strong, so I guess it never bothers you. Anyway,” Claude moves a pawn next to Dimitri’s Queen – he moved it just where he shouldn’t have, he really doesn’t know how to play. “Tonight you’re troubled. It shows because you didn’t take a single sensed move. There’s something on your mind that prevent you to focus.”

“There’s always…I mean, you’re right.”

“Is that the note Catherine found on Lonato? About Killing the Archbishop?”

Dimitri gasps, “How can you possibly know?”

Claude smirks, he leans on his backseat and crosses his arms in front of his chest - he likes to think it makes him look a bit more intimidating than he actually does, but he’s not so sure it works, especially not on someone like Dimitri who could probably break the table into two with bare hands. “I have ears everywhere. Whatever happens in the Monastery, be sure I’ll know it within the day.”

“I have to admit your talents are quite impressive. But I’m afraid the note isn’t what’s troubling my heart tonight.”

Aw, that’s really happening; they are going to have their first heart to heart conversation.

“All those people…these pawns,” Dimitri takes one of his in his hands, “Mere villagers. They were faithful to lord Lonato. We had to…dispose of them.”

“You killed them?”

“They attacked us as soon as I…as Lonato fell. We clearly had no choice from then but I can’t help but wonder…how can it be right?”

“I get what you mean. Innocent people dying is never an option we should consider.”

“Excuse my bluntness Claude, but I’m afraid you in fact have little idea of what I’m talking about.”

Dimitri takes Claude’s knight with his rook. On the other side of the table, Claude still recovers from this uncalled and fierce attack, one he never saw coming. Yet Dimitri is probably right and meant no harm – he was just simply exposing a truth Claude isn’t very comfortable with. Despite them being the same age, they have very different history and if Claude has managed to avoid a bloodbath despite the countless assassins that have been sent to his tracks, Dimitri hasn’t had the same chance. He already had blood on his hands before entering Garreg Mach.

Claude has not killed an innocent citizen yet. That’s all Dimitri wanted to say.

“Sorry.”

He wanted to say more, but somehow none of the pretty words he thought of feels right.

“Claude, your face…” It’s Dimitri’s turn – perhaps he has forgotten already? – but he doesn’t look like he’s about to move anytime soon. His gaze is fixed on Claude. “You’ve just looked very different from how you usually do.”

“You’re looking at my face hn?” Claude leans on the table, his chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Do you like it?”

Dimitri rolls his eyes. “Claude, please.”

“You can stare as much as you like.”

“What do you want from me Claude?”

Is the Prince tired of him already, or just too straightforward?

Claude reclines on his chair. The smile on his face is gone. He recites the words he once told Sylvain, because they are closer to the truth than anything he could leak. “Friendship, is it really that impossible to believe coming from someone like me?”

“I didn’t know you were the kind of person to befriend people without an ulterior motive.”

“First, who say I didn’t have one? Second,” Claude sends Dimitri a quick glance to judge the temperature. “Perhaps I enjoy your company?”

Dimitri raises an eyebrow, crossing his arms on his chest as well. “You enjoy winning at chess without a single bit of resistance? I thought you were a man of challenge.”

“Perhaps you don’t know me as well as you think you do your Highness.”

“That’s a given. But you don’t know me well either.”

“But that’s the point!” Claude can feel he’s got him under his palm now, the trap soon will close on its prey. “You’ll soon access the throne and become King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus. In a couple of years, my grand father will join the Goddess and my uncle who knows where and leave the Leicester Alliance in my hand. I might not have had to kill any civilian yet but as a future leader, the well being of my people is more important than anything. And I too think that any death should be avoided at any cost. As an outsider, I truly believe you people just don’t talk to each other enough.”

“So you’re saying you want to befriend me for the future of the Alliance?”

“And because I trust you can become a great chess player. It’s a bet on the long term.”

What’s supposed to be a joke ends up confusing Dimitri instead of making him laugh and relax just a bit, but it’s fine, really it’s fine.

“Don’t you agree that you’ll sleep better knowing you have someone outside your borders that can have your back? Let me be that person.”

“And I assume I’ll have to have your back in return?” Dimitri asks sternly.

“That’s a given. Plus, I know you will never try to stab me in the back. And I want you to trust me on this point; I may be scheming and spying on what’s happening in the Monastery, but I do trust you, and I will never betray your trust if you were kind enough to give it to me. That’s not what friends do. Check Mate by the way.”

Dimitri frowns, he looks at the board to see the ugly truth. “But, wasn’t it my turn?”

Claude bursts out of laughing – yes it was, but that’s not the point – and, perhaps thanks to fatigue and the urgent need to exorcise the atrocity that has been this day, Dimitri starts to laugh as well. Not as much, not as loudly as Claude but it shows it’s the first time in ages. Which is a shame, really, Dimitri has a nice laugh.

“Can I take it as a yes then? Me, you, working together for the bright future of Fódlan?”

“Alright Claude, I’ll trust you on that on. But what if we end up not liking each other? What if you find something in me that will force you to take up arms and fight against me?” he speaks the last part with way too much seriousness for Claude’s liking.

“Oh Dimitri, be reassured, you’re too endearing to be disliked. Now please, give me your strength we need to get Linhardt back to his room.”

Claude insists on doing his part – letting Dimitri holding Linhardt all by himself when he wasn’t even the one who drugged him was really not something a friend would do, Claude tells him – and it’s with great difficulty thanks to their poor coordination that the two of them, Claude at the head and Dimitri holding him by the ankles, brings back Linhardt to his room. It doesn’t help that they stumble on Byleth while walking past the greenhouse near the stairs.

“…Teach, I can explain.”

“Professor! This is…” They speak at the same time, and Claude and his pretty mouth manages to save them from detention, or at least he hopes so. When it’s all over and they have reached his room, Claude laughs again boundlessly.

“That was tight! How can you be laughing Claude!” Dimitri hushes, but anyone could guess how mad he is.

“That was just so ridiculous!”

“Yes indeed!”

“And? How did you like it?” Claude provokes him, taking a step closer into his personal space. “How does it feel to be a normal teenager at times, Your Highness?”

He’s glad when Dimitri doesn’t pull back. Instead, he reflects on Claude words, having finally understood what it was all about. “It…it was nice. Thank you Claude. Perhaps I should listen to you and Sylvain more often.”

“Ow! Don’t push it too much!” What the heck did Sylvain told him?

“Sylvain thinks I’m…how to say…naïve and _uptight_.” Claude has to bite on his lower lip not to burst out of laughing again. “I guess telling him this story will make him quiet for a while.”

“You’re going to tell them?” About Claude and their deal? Their new friendship?

“Why not?”

“So you do trust me then?”

It’s like staring at the sky, sometimes the stars are so pretty it’s barely believable all of this is real. Does Dimitri really put his trust so easily into him, Claude von Riegan, who he barely knows? Even if they share the same morals and has the best interest in mind, Dimitri has no idea of all the things Claude is hiding from him – and the same can be said about Dimitri, for what is worth, but he doubts the Kingdom could have hid many secrets concerning the Prince. And it comes as an evidence the second Dimitri is about to reply, the very second he opens his mouth that Dimitri and him are really not made of the same cloth. Dimitri is strong, unhealthy so. Dimitri has people surrounded him, caring for him, protecting him, loving him – not matter how weirdly they show it. Dimitri welcomed Dedue into his life after the tragedy of Duscur.

Dimitri never needed to be suspicious to survive.

He has everything Claude hasn’t.

“Yes I do. It is true that you’re a difficult person to grasp, but I hope our time at Garreg Mach will help me figure out who my future ally is as a person.”

Claude forces a smile, and he does it so terribly he knows it shows. Hopefully the darkness of the corridor would hide it from Dimitri.

“So, I guess, good night?”

“Ah! Yes, yes good night, see you tomorrow.”

Even such platitude feels clumsy – uptight almost – making Claude wonder if the Prince isn’t rubbing off on him, and not the opposite.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes be his friend Claude, you're not fooling anyone I'm watching you.  
> Thank you again for reading :) I might add I'm still in Glenn's shoes and needs a beta ~~ I make very good cookies if you're interested


	6. Blue Sea Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hilda, you are brilliant!” She blinks, unaware of her genius, “Please ask Lorenz to join me his my room in an hour.”  
> And with that, Claude runs to the training ground where he finds, to none surprise, Felix and Dimitri spearing. They stop at his impromptu arrival. “Claude.” Felix swears under his breathe, certainly because now Dimitri is walking to him and not paying attention to his sword anymore. “Is everything alright? You look in a hurry.”  
> “Yes, and yes I am but this is not important. You told me someone gave Teach a tea set this week, do you remember who it was?”  
> He finds Hilda waiting for him when he exits with a stupid grin on her face. “Claude, I knew it was Ferdinand. You could have asked me.”  
> “Oh, then I guess I ran for nothing.”  
> “No you didn’t. You wanted to see him. Did you stare enough for today? ‘Cause we have some serious business to do.”  
> Claude might as well tell her they have talked about the matter only yesterday and it then seems logical to discuss the topic again with the person who has first informed him, yet nothing, none of his words are good enough to erase the grin on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small warning : Dimitri talks about Duscur so, heavy topic here.

* * *

#### Blue Sea Moon

.

* * *

Blue Sea Moon has always been Claude’s favourite. The weather is hot and humid in Almyra, stormy even, there isn’t a day like the other. It is also, as it turns out, the moon he was born into this world and the whole Monastery seems to be informed of this trivial matter thanks to the irreplaceable help of none but Hilda Goneril.

“Claude, I really need to find something to write back to my older brother.” It is only the fifth time she asks him about stories, advices, her inquires half hiding lazy blackmail – filled with _‘I can tell him how our class only have boring missions thanks to your poor leadership’_ or ‘ _I can write about your last quarrel with Lorenz_ ’ or the even bolder ‘ _I can tell him about your crush on Prince Dimitri’_. Of course, all her threats are empty, because Hilda is a nice person deep inside, but she really wants some help with her replies.

“But why would you tell Holst such a thing? I’m just trying to befriend the important people of this world in order to fulfil my goals quicker.”

“And how staring at him like _that_ is supposed to help you achieve anything for the Alliance?” And Hilda pauses, giving him an adoration gaze with half opened lips and then sighs, longingly.

Claude feels hurt, “I don’t do that.”

“Yes you do. You stare at his lips and at his ass too. You’re the only one thinking you’re still spying.”

“I was just trying to read on his lips- this is going nowhere,” he stops there, because there is nothing he can say for his defence as for why he has been staring at the Royal Arse – but this is old story now, the dream is forgotten and buried deep in his subconscious. “Perhaps you could just tell Holst I manage to befriend the heir of the throne of Faerghus, and that we’re getting ready for this moon’s mission with the rest of the students, by describing him your daily training with your axe.” Which is sure won’t even fit a line with how hard Hilda tries.

“So you’re friends now? Officially?”

Claude sighs, annoyed but unsurprised at where the conversation is going - Hilda isn’t even finished he can feel it.

“How do you befriend Royalty by the way? Do you ask for a permission to court them into friendship?”

“Nothing of the sort, I just cornered him at night and left him no choice but to like me. Easy.” Claude replies, and he likes how Hilda stares at him now – as she couldn’t decide if he fooling her or not. “What is it Lady Goneril? Is that jealous that I guess being your adorable pout? Oh no, how inconsiderate I have been! To officialise my friendship with the Prince when we haven’t done anything of the sort you and I! How can I be so unsensitive?”

Hilda walks faster ahead. “Claude, you’re really the worst.”

“Okay okay, I’m sorry. Hey, you know how I kind of only befriend people I can profit from?” She halts, looks at him frowning. Claude takes a breathe. “Well, let’s say that it’s less true with you.”

Candide surprise replaces the suspicious on her face, making her look younger than before. “Claude…” her eyes are wild, “I think this is the best declaration of friendship I could have dream of coming from you.”

The air comes out of his lungs, with ease. “You’ll still give me your total support.”

“Yeah, I got you back.” Claude smiles, truly, which somehow makes Hilda laugh. “I am flattered to be gifted with the true smile of Claude von Riegan.”

“Hey, what was that for?”

“Nothing, let’s say I accept your declaration of friendship. But please promise me something.”

Claude nods, he’s all ears.

“Don’t stare at my ass.”

As it turns out Hilda is really helping in a way Claude can’t quite master: she is someone Lorenz talks to easily and has great esteem from, considering she’s also a noble and of a great family – it is perhaps important to the noblest of them all to be in Hilda’s good papers so she can tell her brother about his worth after all, or at least this is where Claude’s theories leads him. In any cases, Lorenz confessing his troubles to her means Claude has a direct access to his complains and can act in consequence.

“He isn’t wrong you know? You’ve been openly spending a lot of time with the Blue Lions, and I’m not only talking about the Prince of course – you train with Ashe, you cooked with Annette and Mercedes, you play chess with Sylvain – and this is fine by me, but considering your political position people are talking back in the Alliance higher circles. House Gloucester has a strategic position in the Alliance territory at the Empire’s border, you can easily guess why Lorenz is so upset by your actions.”

And of course Claude knows that, he knows and tries to open up his arms to the Black Eagles too but it is rather evident that he isn’t as successful as he is with the other house.

“Hm, there has to be something we can do.” Hilda thinks aloud, forefinger on her chin.

But, of course! This was just under his nose and he didn’t see it before!

Edelgard and her creepy advisor are out of reach but the rest of the Black Eagles…if chosen rightfully…

“Hilda, you are brilliant!” She blinks, unaware of her genius, “Please ask Lorenz to join me his my room in an hour.”

And with that, Claude runs to the training ground where he finds, to none surprise, Felix and Dimitri spearing. They stop at his impromptu arrival. “Claude.” Felix swears under his breathe, certainly because now Dimitri is walking to him and not paying attention to his sword anymore. “Is everything alright? You look in a hurry.”

“Yes, and yes I am but this is not important. You told me someone gave Teach a tea set this week, do you remember who it was?”

He finds Hilda waiting for him when he exits with a stupid grin on her face. “Claude, I knew it was Ferdinand. You could have asked me.”

“Oh, then I guess I ran for nothing.”

“No you didn’t. You wanted to see him. Did you stare enough for today? ‘Cause we have some serious business to do.”

Claude might as well tell her they have talked about the matter only yesterday and it then seems logical to discuss the topic again with the person who has first informed him, yet nothing, none of his words are good enough to erase the grin on her face. She seems so satisfy with herself it irks something inside him. Why is she imagining so many things?

An hour later Lorenz knocks on his door. “Claude? You asked for me?”

He loves the look on surprise on his face when Lorenz notices they aren’t alone; Ferdinand sits around Claude’s table with a cup of tea in hands. “Hello Lorenz! Claude told me you’re a fine connoisseur yourself!”

“Oh, hn,” he sends Claude a suspicious look that meets with a smug smile. Get the picture Lorenz, he wants to scream. “I actually am! What a coincidence. What did you prepare for us Claude?”

“Well nothing sort of sophisticated. I ran into Teach, who Ferdinand gave this magnificent tea set and I immediately thought of you Lorenz. So I took it and went to the marketplace to find some fine tea to go with it. What a surprise when I found there Ferdinand doing the same thing!”

“It is true that honey fruit bend is rather common and easy to drink, but you infused it perfectly Claude. I’m impressed by your knowledge on the matter.”

“Oh, just wait to taste Lorenz’s tea then, he’s the true tea master in the Golden Deer house.” Claude winks, making Lorenz visibly uncomfortable but he doesn’t care. The plan is working. The three of them enjoys the tea together and Claude lets the two of them do most of the talking – he doesn’t know a lot about tea after all, or about Foldan’s nobility when the conversation diverts to this field ultimately. At some point Claude really feels he’s a third wheel and exits his room, pretexting he only remembers now he is on cooking duty.

Hilda awaits him. “So?”

“Mission complete.” He announces thumbs up, he leans to see the notebook Hilda is holding close to her chest. “How is it going?”

“Raphael is training with Caspar as we speak, you say you’ll take care of Linhardt-“

“I’ll try to recruit him, but we won’t be able to if we don’t get Caspar as well.”

Hilda gives him a sceptical look but doesn’t dwell on the matter. “I still have to find a way to talk to Bernadetta. Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to Dorothea or Petra? They are way more fun to hang out with…”

“Oh, you can, but since Petra is from Brigid and Dorothea a commoner, I don’t think they will suffice to calm Lorenz’s anxieties.”

“Don’t tell me you’re doing all that for _Lorenz_.”

He laughs, she has a point but they have little time to act; friendship doesn’t come as easily with certain people.

“Wait,” they are walking back to their classroom, “Are you trying to please Lorenz so that he will start to like you?”

“Aren’t you a bit too optimistic? If he could hate me a little less by the end of the moon, I’ll be the happiest man in the Monastery.”

All of this of course is a part of a bigger plan, where they all get along well, where the Alliance is unified under the Riegan’s banner, where they walk hands in hands with the Kingdom of Faerghus while enjoying delicate tea with the Empire’s ministers. And Claude thought Hilda was the one being optimistic…

* * *

Of course they organised a party. Claude has always loved feast of all sort, but celebrating far from his home for the first time left a bitter taste in his mouth, and so he hasn’t planned anything, frankly, because he didn’t even know how many people would care enough to actually celebrate with him.

So he is candidly surprised when their classroom is filled with everyone.

“Happy Birthday Claude!!”

He is welcomed with gift, cakes and confetti, cheers and laughs, smiles and hugs. Hilda gives him handmade earrings that are so pretty Claude doesn’t believe she made them herself at first – which he is going to regret later, she’ll make sure of it – Leonie a new arc, Ignaz drew him a beautiful sunset, even Lorenz made an effort and hands him some tea – his own favourite of course, but it’s already so unhoped for Claude doesn’t say anything. Honestly, Claude couldn’t feel happier. Everyone seems to enjoy themselves, the threat planning on the Monastery forgotten under the weight of their laughter.

“Claude, over here.” Hilda takes him by the arms as soon as he finishes telling a joke to Leonie, who laughs perhaps a bit by politeness, and drags him outside the classroom. “Tada!”

He doesn’t understand why she looks so happy or even why she extirped him out of his own party until Dimitri stands before him. Oh, right, this is why she’s so content with herself. “Claude! Happy birthday. You should have told me, I’m afraid I came here empty handed, this is truly embarrassing…I hope you’ll find enough kindness in you to forgive me for my negligence.” And then he bows, so typical of him.

Yet Claude is happy to see him, happy that he accepted to come for his birthday party – he notices how this reflection makes him sound like a thirteen year old but he puts it aside. “Thank you, and there’s no need to apologize. But please! Come inside!”

It appears it is not the best idea Claude had. Dimitri acts a bit shy around people he doesn’t really know and worse, the Golden Deers are definitely uncomfortable with his Royal aura, especially those who don’t come from nobility. He catches Leonie talking with him about Teach, which is perhaps the only thing people dare to talk to with him, and Lorenz of course, but once the Prince has enough of his speech – which is still longer than Claude would have expected – he sees how Dimitri withdraws to a corner, mimicking Marianne, enjoying his drink and a piece of cake Lysithea kindly shoved into his mouth.

He’s asking too much of him. He needs an escape route.

“Your Highness, this way.” Claude takes his wrist and brings him back outside, on a bench where they can sit and chat before they part. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think before inviting you inside. I forgot you don’t know the Deers as much as I know the Lions.”

“There is no need to apology, it was a good experience, one that I should, perhaps, renew from time to time.”

“Oh, are you trying to loosen up a bit? Sylvain’s gonna be so proud of his future King!”

“Ah, please, don’t talk about Sylvain…Actually Claude there is something I’d like to discuss with you.” Dimitri was coming to meet him when he found Hilda instead, who invited him to the party. Perfect timing.

“I just found out about the silver bow you lent Ashe. I am truly grateful for your kindness.”

“And you came all this way just to thank me? I am moved, Your Highness.” Dimitri tsks, he still needs a bit of adaptation to catch when Claude’s messing with him on purpose – Claude is confident the time will come soon, they’ve been spending more and more time together, just talking about really mondain things such as their classes and respective teachers, their classmates, Sylvain’s love life and cats. “How is he doing by the way?” He asks, remembering Ashe still hasn’t come back to the archery field.

“He’s still shocked, of course. He’s rather silent, his smile aren’t as wild as they used to. He doesn’t talk about it but I can only guess the turmoil in his heart.”

“Lord Lonato was his adoptive father after all. He lost his father a second time, that must have been horrible.”

“The worse is that we still can find a reason why.” Dimitri holds his chin with his hands, a habit Claude remarked a couple of days ago, “This rebellion was purely hopeless. Even if I do understand his motive, how could he decided on an attack when he knew only death awaited him in the end?”

He does understand his motive, hn? “There has to be something we aren’t aware of that made him attack on that particular moment. Don’t you think the timing is rather appropriate?” Claude looks at Dimitri to see if he’s alright taking that direction with him, in plain light outside their classrooms. Of course, they are rather alone and the Deers are making quite some noise so they don’t have to worry about being overheard but still, it requires a certain amount of trust to share these kind of thoughts with someone, with an outsider.

“We found the note about Rhea’s assassination…the moon before the Rite of Rebirth. I agree with you, this is rather suspicious. Is your class’s mission to protect the Monastery during the ceremony?” Claude nods, at long last they’ll have something exciting to do.

“Can I share my thoughts?” He’s desperate to have someone he can put his trust on and have a decent conversation with about political matters – Hilda just doesn’t care to listen to him long enough, and, there is literally no one else he would want to share that with. But the matter is thorny to engage with Dimitri since it concerns one of his Vassal.

Yet Dimitri nods without a second thought. “Please, go ahead.” And Claude isn’t sure he likes the warm feeling in his chest hearing those words that were spoken for him.

“I think Lord Lonato was being manipulated. They used his grudge against the Church as a way to attract our attention on that letter, to monopolize the Knights of Seiros on Lady Rhea’s security. Which means…”

“Which means they’ll have another goal in mind. While the knights are busy protecting the Archbishop…”

“They aren’t looking at the rest of the Monastery.”

Claude is glad they share the same trail of thoughts. They eyes lock in common understanding. Claude smiles.

“The professor thinks the same. We will mostly patrol around the Monastery, we’re still investigating on the best place to protect for now.”

Claude has done the same since the news broke, but hasn’t quite finished yet. “And what are your conclusions so far?”

“We’ve selected a few places that are of highly importance. The Monastery is full of precious relics, there is just too many options and we can’t be everywhere at the same time.”

Something doesn’t feel right though. “It has to be linked with the ritual.” He says, thinking aloud more than anything, “If not why mentioning it on the threat? They can attack at any time to capture Garreg Mach treasures, so there must be something...”

Dimitri seems to think of that possibility too, they remain quiet for a while. “I see. I’ll talk about it with the professor to see if they have any idea.”

“And I’ll talk to Hanneman.” He won’t, but he won’t ruin their bonding moment. Plotting together for the greatest good, this is what he has always wanted.

Somehow he is glad he had his heart set on Dimitri and not Edelgard.

“That being said, whoever plan this are trully lucky they had exactly what they needed under their palms. Why did Lord Lonato loathe the Church to begin with?” Dimitri looks down, visibly uncomfortable and Claude wants to take his words back so dearly. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

He doesn’t really have to reply, but again Dimitri proves his logic wrong. “It’s…” It’s endearing to see him struggle with something that seems so difficult to say, so painful, because he’s doing this for Claude when Claude has never asked for this much; even if it’s what he looks for in endgame, Dimitri is really trusting him with his pain, and Claude knows a bit too well how it’s easy to share moments of happiness, even with a mere stranger, and how pain and sorrow are an entire other story. “It’s because of what happened in Duscur – after Duscur, actually.”

It always comes down to this tragedy. The one where Dimitri lost his parents.

“After my whole family and friends were killed, the people of Duscur were blamed, but it was rather evident they had had help from someone inside the Kingdom…Christophe, Lonato’s son, was arrested and brought to the Church as guilty of that crime, and was sentenced to death by Lady Rhea. Lonato never believed he was involved with this to begin with, his hate for the Church only grew with time…”

Claude feels so small, so small and stupid. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have…” Claude had it hard for a while, but it was nothing compared to what Dimitri had to endure.

“No, it’s fine, it was four years ago after all. But this is why I told you I understand Lonato’s motive…at least a little. Only a man who had lost everything and only lived for revenge could have been this desperate.” Dimitri looks up to Claude, “This is why I understand Ashe as well. Now we’re both orphans once again.”

“I’m afraid I can’t even begin to understand a hint of your sorrow. I’m lucky enough to have never lost someone close to me yet…” He reflects sadly that he has not a lot to begin with, that he must sounds silly. Dimitri’s speech puts him in the limits of his logic. He never thought the Prince would share so many personal memories with him, not so soon at least. He might look confident and easy going but truth is, Claude is bad at emotion, with real ones at least.

“I’ve been wondering…” He lets his heart speak for once, because somehow it feels right to think a bit less with his brain when around Dimitri, “Dedue, you saved him in Duscur. Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Well, no actually, but Claude tries not to look offended – he can’t, he’s too busy watching Dimitri and the thing that shines in his eyes. “He was just like me. A victim in all this. When they found out about the slaughter the knights murdered everyone…they murdered women, they murdered children…innocent people and all I could do was watched.” His fists curl into ball on his thighs. “I was powerless, utterly powerless; after witnessing my dear ones dying, after watching Glenn being…cut into pieces to protect me, the knights were doing to same atrocities to innocent people, to children, in _my_ name. Dedue is the only one I could save.” Dimitri stares back at Claude with a burning passion in his eyes, something greater than his life guiding him and he has the awful feeling of déjà vu, he had seen the same kind of force running in Edelgard the first time they met. “From then he’s been like a brother to me, the only family I have left…but he’s also a reminder of all the ones I couldn’t save. With him by my side, I’ll never forget them as I sit on the throne; I hope I can be a better King and find a way to repay for my weakness back at that time.”

Dimitri’s honesty, his openness, rolls over Claude and drags him on kilometres without stopping, leaving him boneless and stunned in ways he has never experienced before. It’s fascinating, unrealistic that this man, a future King nonetheless, who’s met him only a few weeks ago is so naturally confessing his deepest wounds without restraint when Claude isn’t even using his real name. It’s unsettling, it’s not supposed to happen that way it was not in any configuration Claude has imagined so far, and the scene overall leaves Claude with the ugly feeling that he’s being caught at his own game. He can almost feel as his eyes widen, as his lips part just so slightly, as he might perhaps be staring at Dimitri as if he shouldn’t have the right to exist, to make him feel so many ugly emotions just by sitting there and being a better man than most Claude has met.

“Claude?”

He wants to go back to being _Claude_ , but for a second he finds out he can’t, and he hears his skin crack under Dimitri’s worried gaze.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have-“

“No!” Claude blurts out eventually, somehow he got back to his sense but what’s done is done. “No it’s not what you say it’s…” But Claude doesn’t even know what it is. He just hates when the ground he walks on crumbling under his steps. “I’m sorry, I had no idea you’ve lived through so much. You turned out rather alright considering what happened.” Dimitri would laugh, knowing how ugly of a man he is after so little happened to him.

Ah, he finally gets it. He lost control. That’s why it doesn’t feel right.

He needs an escape route, and right now.

Dimitri smiles warily in front of him. “Well I’m not…as perfect as people think I am...”

“Oh come on,” there, a weakness, praise him, “You’re the definition of how a Prince should be. You’re strong, honest, brave, sensible, kind and handsome on top of that.” He’ll leave the ‘uptight’ aside, no one can be that perfect after all. “I’ll bet you also take care of orphans back in Faerghus.”

“Actually, I’m using some of my spare time teaching the orphans how to use a sword here at the Monastery, not as much as I’d like too unfortunately...”

Claude freezes, then bursts out of laughing. “No wonder why Sylvain doesn’t stand a chance against you.”

Dimitri frowns, “What does Sylvain has to do with all this?”

“Nothing, nothing really,” Claude catches his breathe, he doesn’t know at what he’s laughing really, “You’re just too perfect to exist. It’s difficult to compare next to you.”

“Please Claude, you’re over exaggerating. You’re very fine yourself, and there’s a lot of things I wish I could do as well as you do.”

“Oh, really?” Claude raises an eyebrow, “Like what for example?”

“I don’t- it’s difficult you caught me unguarded, but- playing chess?” Claude laughs again, “Oh please, forgive me that was rather…disastrous, for a lack of better word.”

“Rude? Lame? Dumb?”

“Claude!” Dimitri sighs, brings his gauntlet on his face to grasp braid of hair. “All I wanted to say is that, there are times I wish I was a bit more like you.”

Claude closes his mouth before replying he wouldn’t if he knew him really. But that is not going to happen, not in any of Claude’s plans.

He wonders what would have happened of this little boy, bullied by everyone who couldn’t find a place he could call his own, if he had met someone like Dimitri back in those days.

“Thank you.” Dimitri will never know how much he means those words. “I truly appreciate it.”

“Claude!” Hilda is calling him from their classroom. Teach is here as well. “There’s someone asking for you.”

The ideal escape route, perfectly on time – Claude is this close to suffocating. This meeting with Dimitri exhausted him mentally and emotionally. “Well, if you would excuse me Your Princeliness.” He knows Dimitri can’t scold him for not using his name after what they’ve shared today. “I’m glad we could talk a bit.”

“Claude,” Dimitri stands up as well, his fists are still curled on his side. “I won’t forget about what we’ve shared.” He says, then looks back at Byleth waiting for them. Right, the mission. Claude almost forgot.

“Got it.” He replies.

“And again, I’m sorry for not bringing you any gift on this special day.” He bows again, announcing his departure. “But I think I might have an idea. If you’d be patient enough – I’d really like to do it right.”

“Well, you’re already late, what harm would one or two days make?”

Dimitri smiles, and then he’s gone. Claude stares at his back until he can’t see the blue from his cape.

Teach offers him tea, but he can’t concentrate on anything clever to say. Yet it’s pleasant to talk about this and that while enjoying his favourite beverage – how did Teach find Almyra pine brand?

“So.” Hilda ambushes him before coming back to his room. He’s really exhausted. “ _’You’re just too perfect to exist’_ hn? Care to explain how this is not your crush showing?”

“No,” he says, and Hilda gasps. “I’m too tired for this.”

He shuts the door and leans on the wood, sighing deeper than he ever has before.

Claude is 18 today.

He slips against the door and sits on the floor.

He can’t believe he is the one who cracked first.

* * *

He’s busy playing with a stray cat on the marketplace’s steps when Felix comes to him. “The boar’s looking for you.”

The boar? “Hello Felix. Who might you be talking about?”

To his surprise the cat flees from his lap to snuggle on Felix’s boots. He looks annoyed, but only because he’s been caught – it is weird, Claude wouldn’t have bet on Felix to be a cat lover but even more surprising, he would have never thought cats would love him back.

“Dimitri. He’s in the Knight’s Hall.”

There’s a pause, during when Claude remembers all those nights he has woken up in sweat after seeing his reflexion in a broken mirror and Judith saying he isn’t good enough, remembers the statue of Dimitri in his room as a reminder of that fact – perfect, pristine, immaculate – which haunts his dreams, flirting with his demons, and when Felix still isn’t moving Claude wonders why he calls him ‘the boar’.

“Why?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t care. Just go see him, my job is done.”

“You don’t care but you still went to find me.”

And now he flees as well, not withing grunting something as he passes by him, his legs hitting Claude’s shoulder intentionally. It’s interesting, Claude ponders, how Felix is the only one not showing an inch of respect for his future King. He’ll have to dig on that, but later, now isn’t the time.

Now is the time to concentrate and to please not think of all the things Hilda told him the past few days, about his growing attachment and blossoming ‘friendship’ with the Prince, unaware of the totally different ugly feelings he is developing, that he tries to bury inside him before they eat on his mask and reveal his real face to the world.

Ah, to witness the life of someone, a future King, so admirable and clean of any reproach! Claude hides his face in the palms of his hands, relieved Felix is gone already. With each of his interaction Claude feels terrible about all the things he hides from Dimitri, and can’t even begin to wonder how he would react when the truth will, eventually, reveal itself. This is so embarrassing. He hasn’t be able to talk to him since his birthday party.

He takes a breathe, then heads to the Knight’s Hall, trying to give his stride something carefree and nonchalant when his mind is just a battlefield – well, not, of course not, it could be worse, it’s just Dimitri, his friend, not someone trying to kill him hidden in a corner, there’s nothing he cannot manage.

It turns out he’s right about that. He doesn’t know why he was so hesitant in meeting the Prince again; nothing happens, “Claude!” he greets him just as usual and his voice hasn’t changed, his manner neither, and Claude still stands on his feet and his head just works fine on its own.

Seriously, why was he so worked up to begin with?

“Have you found anything new about…” Dimitri turns around, but there’s just Dedue and Tomas – who’s half deaf – in the hall. “The mission.” Still, he ends with a whisper.

“I’m afraid I’m running a blank,” he admits, in all honestly – he would have liked to say something else of course, but there was just too many things to look over and being an outsider, the Church of Seiros and its subtility isn’t his favourite field of expertise. “You?”

Dimitri nods, which is rather a good news – one Claude can’t wait to hear. “We have an idea. Alois told us the Holy Mausoleum is only opened to the public on that specific day. This can’t be a coincidence. What do you think?”

Claude smiles. Indeed, it might be the clue they were looking for all along. “Sounds really interesting. So your class and Teach will look over the area I guess?”

Dimitri nods.

“Fine. We’ll check on the surroundings, to make sure you aren’t disturb if anything…happens. If I can be of any help, well, you just have to ask.”

“Thank you for your offering. If you could, as you suggest, make sure we aren’t deconcentrated by any futile events happening outside the Mausoleum, that would be of great help.”

It is the least the Golden Deers could do after all.

At night, Claude wanders to the Cathedral. He is surprised to meet no living soul, wondering exactly how well guarded the Monastery is. If most of the Knights are resting or organising their troops for tomorrow’s ritual, they are leaving the Cathedral at the mercy of thefts, or worst kind of individual, like him.

It isn’t that difficult to force his way inside the Mausoleum. Claude sneaks in; the place is immense and his steps echo, there’s only rock and statues – of clothes individuals – and then he sees it, the only things that sticks out.

A coffin.

It seems to be protected by some kind of powerful white magic; this being as far as possible from his comfort zone Claude backs up, coming out as silently as he could and hurries back to his room.

This definitely looks like something their enemy could be after.

He tries to tell Dimitri before they get ready for patrol but unfortunately the Blue Lions get dragged into battle before the ceremony starts. Claude learns about Byleth’s exploit once everything is over and curls his fist when his eyes meet the Sword of the Creator. This Relic has nothing to do with Catherine Thunderbrand, it rather looks like the real deal, the legendary sword his mother and grandfather sang the praises of – a sword that could cut a mountain into two.

Claude watches helplessly as another mean to achieve his goal escapes from his grip, slides through his fingers to join the professor’s company.

But how on Earth could they wield it?

There is just too many mystery to solve, from Teach to the occidental church, and why they wanted to steal that treasure…suddenly Claude has the feeling they are at the edge of something important, something that will make History, something people will write on books for the future generation to know and never forget. He wonders, if his hints comes to be accurate, which part History will give him, and if it’ll let his wildest dreams come true.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know if it shows but I am having way too much fun writing Hilda.  
> Also you should enjoy this short (6k) chapter, for the ones to come are all over 10k. (*cries in a corner* *die of dehydration*)


	7. Verdant Rain Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Speaking of which, isn’t it strange, Claude? How you dream of breaking the barriers around Fódlan, and yet you’ve built one around yourself, refusing to let people in. "No, he isn’t, it’s just impossible for him to let people in. "The more we talk, the more I realize I know nothing about you. It’s kind of…upsetting, to say the least. Do you trust me so little?”
> 
> “Of course I trust you!” His voice is forced, the game he’s been playing for moons is crumbling, how? How did he let it happen? It took only one sentence and deception in Dimitri’s eyes to lay a critical hit to his farce. He smiles but for the first time in ages, he can feel how it never reaches his eyes – he’s not even able to fool himself, how could Dimitri not see through his disguise? “We’re friends, remember? I don’t have that much here.” Or anywhere else. “You know a lot about me already.”
> 
> “No I don’t. Not as much as I would want to. But it is getting late.” Dimitri gets on his feet and that’s when Claude panics. What does it mean? Is Dimitri upset? Are they still friends? Why is he leaving? “Thank you for tonight. It was rather…insightful.”
> 
> Why is he leaving the moment Claude let out a hint of what he’s truly made of?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Claude and Dimitri play chess in this chapter and you will perhaps need a chessboard to help you visualise the game.  
> This chapter is 11.5k and has been proofread by Cam, an actual angel. Thank you again for your kind help :)  
> Also I took some liberties with Canon, so here have Judith in the Blue Lion route.

* * *

#### Verdant Rain Moon

.

* * *

Even if he has a history of sneaking around places and had already visited perhaps the entire Monastery during his night ballades, Claude has always found the Audience Chamber to be the most intimidating of all. It is not that Rhea scares him – she behaves calmly and protectively of everyone here at the Monastery, takes orphans under the Church’s wings but Claude knows what she’s capable of, how she sentences dissidents to death when they disobey and revolt, and he isn’t sure he likes that coming from the Archbishop – but rather that the place sends him a ‘do not enter’ vibe he can’t quite shove off. Yet, when he catches Byleth and Dimitri heading there, Teach with the Sword of the Creator in hands, his curiosity gets the best of him.

He effortlessly hides from the knights behind a corner before the doors close. Rhea and Seteth are standing next to each other, inseparable as always, as they deliver the Blue Lion’s next mission. Again, there seems to be some trouble within the Kingdom’s territory, but why would the Church investigate this trivial matter?

Oh, there’s a relic involved, interesting.

But there’s also something less satisfying : the bandits are led by none but Sylvain’s older brother.

“Inherited because he lacks a crest…I see…”

“Claude! There you are!”

Lysithea, frowning way too much for her young age, rushes to him. “Hanneman is looking for you everywhere!”

Passing by the Reception Hall Claude catches sight of Byleth again, their sword to their hip and also of an older man he’s never seen before, but who strangely looks familiar. He’s tall and friendly, smiles at Dimitri with benevolence and, he dares to say, affection – where has he seen those feature again? Those eyes and hair-

Oh, he kind of looks like Felix with a smiling face.

The thought is too hilarious for him not to snort. Lysithea eyes him, then raises her eyes to the heavens.

* * *

A couple of days later Claude wakes up earlier to train and is surprised to find Sylvain already in sweat in the Knight Hall. Intrigued, he figures it might be the best time to approach him about their next mission.

“Hey,” he stands a bit behind, not wanting to get hurt with Sylvain’s spare so soon in the morning. “You okay? It’s uncommon to see you here so early. I thought you hated training.”

“Ah, Claude von Riegan, as observant as ever.” Sylvain throws his lance, it hits the wall and falls on the ground – Claude thinks how Dimitri’s would have stick on the wood and remains, a shiver runs down his spine. “I’m sure by now you’ve known about out next mission?”

“I can’t say I’m not aware.”

“Did His Highness tell you or did you find it on your own?”

“You’ll have to blame my spying talent alone for this one.” But it’s hardly an achievement, the whole Monastery is talking about it.

They end up in Sylvain’s room without really knowing how. Sylvain takes his chess set before Claude can say a single thing. Well, why not a good game? It always helps to untie one’s tongue.

In this particular case, chess is just a bad pretext; Sylvain isn’t even trying – which would have annoyed Claude immensely if it wasn’t for the tragic backstory of House Gautier, unveiled just for his ears, told by the womanizer of the Monastery.

“My father quickly inherited my brother after I was born.” Sylvain starts, f7 paw between his fingers, “As soon as he knew I had a crest.”

“I heard something of…the sort.” He doesn’t elaborate much, after all he has only caught half of what Seteth had told Teach.

“Since that moment he started to hate me, like, really. Would try to hurt me when I was too young to understand. He threw me in a well once.”

“Oh.” Claude has the presence of mind to appear surprised, when he’s unfortunately non too unfamiliar with this kind of situation. How often has his step brother bullied him? The occasions were too many to be counted.

“I knew he had joined a group of bandits but I never thought he would go that far.”

“And how are you feeling?” Except from the abnormal activities, Sylvain looks like usual, literally. Same voice, same smile, same words and intonation – but they are clues someone as Claude can’t miss, because they behave the same, they hide their true game close to their heart too well. “You don’t look particularly phased.”

“What can I say? My brother is a jerk but I get him, he got it hard. You wouldn’t know about it. I recall you didn’t know about your crest before coming to Fódlan?”

Claude shakes his head, indeed he didn’t. “Is that so important?”

And then, Sylvain laughs, bitterly – and Claude gets a glimpse of his true self, the ugly one lying underneath the masquerade. “What do they say again? Idiocy is bliss? Not that I think you’re an idiot,” he adds quickly when he sees the look on Claude’s face. “It’s just, you have no idea of what it is to be born in the Kingdom with a crest.”

Claude takes a breathe, they haven’t even start the game – Sylvain still holds his paw in the air, to give him consistence perhaps, at least it’s painfully obvious he doesn’t have any intention to actually _play_ chess – and he shouldn’t be surprised, really; Sylvian just needs to get things out of his chest and doesn’t know how to. They aren’t what Claude would call friendly in any way, but Claude is an outsider, he isn’t from the Kingdom so he’s safe, and he’ll understand the kind of things Sylvain wants to say but can’t, they’re both chess players after all.

So Sylvain tells him, not everything but a seriously large amount of what his childhood has been, his brother, how he tried to kill him, how he met Felix, Ingrid, _His Highness_ , the pressure his father put on his shoulders.

“House Gautier has been defending our northern border for centuries against Sreng.” So they have more or less the same role as House Goneril, meaning Sylvain will have to turn into a Holst – a powerful warrior, whose name alone could make an army shake in fear. Claude stares at him a bit more, he’s far from it. “And we’ve been gifted with a Relic, the Lance of Ruin.”

Claude wants to laugh, everyone gets a Relic but him! When will his grandfather- wait, a Relic means- oh, everything makes sense now. Miklan couldn’t handle the relic because he lacks the crest, got inherited, Sylvain took his place as the defender of the Kingdom.

“To be honest with you, I think the whole attention we give to crests is absurd. Sure, the Relics are deadly effective but look at the harm it makes. My older brother is a jerk, but he’s still family. I’m sure he would have been a fine Margrave if he hadn’t been told since I was born that he was useless and pathetic. And I can’t resent my father for it as well, he’s just protecting the Kingdom. It’s…the whole Relic thing that is a problem, I think.”

And Sylvain eventually puts down his paw, starting the game. He’s not looking at Claude as the words flow out of his mouth effortlessly.

“In the ancient times every noble family had crests, that’s how they became – we became – nobles in first place. But with time, they got fewer and fewer, so much that now, having a crest in the family is a blessing. How many families have had children until one of them bare one, even if they couldn’t afford it? How many did they let die of starvation for the crest holder to survive?” Claude winces at the thought, is this really what is going on in Sylvain’s head most of the time? He moves his bishop and waits, observing the game at hand – this is by far Sylvain’s best.

“What you say is horrible indeed. To think I bear such a burden without knowing any of it for sixteen years.”

“Well in your case, it kind of serves you right, hn? You got out of nowhere with the Riegan’s crest, the ultimate proof of your filiation to the declining leader of the Alliance.”

Truth is, Claude would have never been here without his crest. “I never asked for it.” He wonders, though, where would his steps have brought him without it. Would he still be alive? Or have died in his homeland, victim of another assassination plan lead by his own blood?

“Me neither, but here we are. You’re the heir of house Riegan and I am a crest on legs.”

Claude halts, how could he think something so degrading with such a lazy smile? The same he bares on every occasion – are they truly the same? Are they both this broken?

It’s bemusing how the blue lions share their pains so openly. This is miles away from how Claude was raised, in a country where strength is the only thing you’re judged upon. No tears, no complains, he stands strong in the storm, he stays alive, he stays alone.

“You’re not just that.” He comes out of him without much thinking, as if the words were spoken for them both. “And you know that.”

“Yeah, perhaps.” He’s unconvinced and it shows, and it hurts. “But I’m sure the girls won’t agree with you if they’re perfectly honest.”

He talks the words with spite and malice in them, Claude doesn’t try to make him elaborate, for he’s learned hell more than what he intended to in first place and there’s still a couple of month to spend here at the Monastery. Who would have thought Sylvain, all of the blue lions, has such a dark side of him and would be willing to share it with Claude, all of the people?

And if Sylvain is this broken, how must the other ones be?

The game is though until the very end, they both turn silent as they scheme and elaborate the best plan to put the other on a corner and checkmate, and in the end of this furious battle Claude wins, bit barely.

“Thank you.” They’re about to part. Sylvain looks calmer and more at ease than he did before Claude enters his room. “You’re a good listener.”

“I didn’t do much.”

“But you don’t judge. I can see why His Highness likes spending time with you.”

He tries to ignore as he feels his cheekbones getting slightly hot – hopefully with his carnation, Sylvain won’t see, and with a bit of bad faith he won’t even notice himself – and hides his embarrassment with a sly smile as always, “What can I say? I’m exquisite.” Sylvain laughs, maybe they have become friends after all. Maybe he can adventure himself on a muddy path without fearing the fall now.

“But, may I ask a question that’s been intriguing me for a while? Why do you call Dimitri his Highness all the time, even when he’s not there? I thought the four of you were childhood friends.”

“Oh, this one is…interesting, but a complicated one I’m afraid. We don’t really have time to dwell on the matter, if I don’t go and exercise with Felix he’s going to kill me, for real.” Claude tries to hide his disappointment with a look of support, something Sylvain has caught it seems, because he elaborates just before they part, “But you have to know the Kingdom is a real mess right now. I don’t complain a lot because what His Highness is going through is way harder than any of what we’ve been enduring. He’s our only hope, our fathers make it very clear for us every day of our life since what happened in Duscur. He’s already our King, we have to treat him with the respect he’s due.”

“But it’s not what Dimitri wants.” Claude can’t help but say, as if he would know better than his childhood friend what Dimitri needs – that was perhaps, a bit foolish of him. Hopefully it leaves no damage, and even surprisingly Sylvain responds with one of his brightest smiles he’s been given the chance to see so far.

“Claude…you have no idea of how much I envy you.” This leaves Claude a bit sceptical, even more so as Sylvain goes on, “You know as well as I we don’t always get what we wants. But for what is worth, I’m glad you choose to befriend His Highness. I know you probably only did it for political reasons, but it’s good for him to have someone to talk to as an equal.”

Pensive after Sylvain’s departure, Claude spends the rest of the afternoon in his room buried in books and letters he sends to the Alliance’s leader, to Judith, his grandfather – to Holst too, but he’ll never tell Hilda. When he gets out for dinner he sees Dimitri walking ahead, in deep conversation with Ingrid about something, probably related to their training but he can’t hear everything they say.

An equal, hn? If only.

* * *

It’s only a matter of luck that makes them meet again a couple of days after.

Claude is discussing their next mission with Hilda as they exit the sauna, debating on her placement and denying her, once more, the right to cheer in a corner when her axe could take down half the bandits they’re supposed to neutralize – but now Claude has a new secret weapon, even more effective than a letter to Holst, in the name of Marianne von Edmund and her precious smile – when Dimitri magically appears on their way.

He wouldn’t be the only surprise of the day but for now, Claude doesn’t know about it yet.

Hilda’s smile widened, “Hello Your Highness,” she says with so much sugar it’s embarrassing, even for Claude – Dimitri is polite enough not to notice, or if he did he shows none of it, “What brings you here? Perhaps you want to test the sauna? It has just opened and it’s amazing.” She emphasized each of her words, turning her head to Claude and his messy braid – he’ll have to redo as soon as possible. “Claude can show you.”

“Ah, there’s no need-“

“Hilda you can see His Highness isn’t dressed for the sauna,” they speak at the same time, though Dimitri stops first and nods at Claude’s guess. “But of course, if you ever want to use the sauna you can always ask for me, your time is mine.” He sends him a wink, and when Dimitri looks slightly away to his feet he can’t say there isn’t something like pride tickling the corner of his lips.

“So, where were you going all alone? Dedue isn’t with you?” Hilda asks.

“No, he’s busy in the greenhouse for this afternoon. I was heading to the training ground for my daily-“

“Oh what a coincidence!” Hilda hits on Claude’s back, he winces – her strength was really uncalled for! “This is where Claude is going too!”

“Oh really?” What on earth is she trying to achieve? “And you’re not coming with him?”

“Oh, no I’m afraid I really can’t,” Claude sighs, but he’s curious to hear what kind of excuse she’s going to serve the Prince. “The heat from the sauna is part of my beauty routine. Now that my pores are all open I need to use some peeling before it’s too late or all of my efforts would have been for naught, and I hate doing unnecessary effort.” Claude is about to interrupt, saying she despites all kind of efforts but Dimitri sees to believe every words coming from her mouth with such intensity it’s kind of funny. “I’ve done my share of sweating for the whole week.”

“Sounds legit.” Claude humours her, sends her a glance that says ‘you’re gonna pay for this’ or so he hopes – and she looks back with a smile that replies ‘in your dreams you’re gonna thank me later’.

“If you need to hurry back to your room I guess we cannot delay your departure. Claude, are you going to train in this…outfit?”

Claude scratches the back of his neck. He’s in summer clothes, with shorts and a shirt that is still a bit damp. “I guess not? I need to go back to my room, don’t wait for-“

“There’s no need for that, you can use some sparing training outfit, I know there are some – at least there is mine, you can borrow it for today, only if that’s okay with you.”

Behind him, Hilda is trying not to exult; she’s biting on her lower lips very hard not to laugh while Claude struggles to keep a polite smile on his face. Look at ease he repeats in his head, look, at, ease. “Why not? If His Highness is proposing…”

Turns out his training shirt is twice as big as Claude’s. Why is he even surprised?

After a couple of minutes Claude is drenched, and has to admit with a hit to his pride that Hilda was right; training just after being in the sauna is utterly counterproductive. Yet Dimitri hasn’t broken a sweat, there’s just a couple of hair that stick on his forehead and that’s pretty it. He throws his lance with force and grace, and just now Claude realizes truly how built the Prince is. His shoulders are wild, the dark tunic he uses everyday hiding the truth of his musculature from the rest of the world – is that a scheme to lure the enemy? Because Claude definitely fell for it!

As he watches him Dimitri breaks a lance into two and curses. Claude gasps, he has never heard him swear before and did he just break his weapon as if it was made of glass – or a massive wood door handle.

He whistles. “I know you don’t like it but, damn, this is really impressive.” Claude has been raised to find demonstration of strength appealing after all.

As expected Dimitri sighs, tiredly, “Am I supposed to thank you?”

“You’re not supposed to do anything, you owe me nothing.” Claude gives him a glass of water and a new lance, but Dimitri only takes the glass and sits next to Claude’s legs. They’re having a pause it seems. “Does it have something to do with your crest?”

“I guess so. I’ve been breaking all sort of things since I was very little. Anything that is delicate…I keep destroying them.”

Claude sits as well, he isn’t going anywhere with his axe anyway. “Aren’t you a bit too hard on yourself? Apart from that incident I promise not to talk about-“

“ _Claude_.”

“Apart from that you haven’t broken anything, at least as far as I’m aware – and I’m aware of everything that happens within the Monastery walls I remind you.”

This is when Dimitri chooses to make an impressive list of his little misadventures, of everything his strong fingers broke, from Mercedes’s needles – why on Fódlan has Dimitri used a needle?? – to Annette baking tool, from one of Sylvain’s chess paw to the kitchen dishes he broke one by one when he was on duty. Claude laughs at the last one, telling him in return his own misadventure, how he got soaked head to toes while trying to help.

It seems to ease the mood a bit, but this moon’s mission has a gloomy aura none seems to get rid of.

“Speaking of crests, I know you’ve talked with Sylvain.” Sylvain told Felix who told Ingrid who told Dimitri, which is interesting as far as group dynamic goes, at least for someone as Claude. “You didn’t have to.”

Claude can’t quite pinpoint if he’s scolding or thanking him. “I know. I just wanted to.” They’re still walking on eggs. “Are you…okay?”

When Dimitri doesn’t reply he’s scared he overstepped his prerogative once more. They haven’t been friends for as long as he’d known Sylvain and the rest of them, Dimitri wouldn’t want to share such matters with him – an outsider – at least, that’s what basic logic would dictate but Dimitri is different, Dimitri isn’t ruled by pure logic like Claude is – he plays with his own, more emotional than he lets appear.

As he recalls Sylvain’s words, Claude wonders if Dimitri truly sees him as an equal, someone he can perhaps share things he cannot with his future people, a confidant. Claude wishes he would. A confidant is someone of trust after all and it’s all he wants from Dimitri. To trust him.

“It’s…sometimes I’m angry. I know I can’t do anything for now, but once I’m on the throne I’ll make sure this kind of things never happens again.”

Claude wants him to precise what exactly is he talking about – the rebellions, the steal of Relics, how Miklan became the person he is today thanks to crests’ supremacy? – but something catches his attention first. It’s in the corner of his peripheral vision, on the roof, a shadow spying on them.

Suddenly Claude is on his feet with his hand on his calf, but his dagger isn’t there, he’s wearing Dimitri’s clothes after all. But there’s no threat. The shadow is gone.

“Claude? Is everything alright?”

Claude takes his time to secure their surroundings. If they are going this far to harm him he can’t stay by Dimitri’s side. “Yeah, excuse me. I thought…”

He bites his lips, damn, he lets his old self in plain sight again. He tries not to notice how Dimitri is now staring at his calf where nothing lies, to his face where his usual smile and careless attitude vanished to let his survival instinct express itself. Dimitri is clever and he knows of how dark the heart of men can be, he’ll know soon enough Claude isn’t really the man he wants everyone to believe he is, and if he ever gets that close – not that Claude intents to let him, this has always been out of the question – there’s high chance the Prince would find this Claude a bit more difficult to trust.

Dammit, he can’t let himself be vulnerable again!

“I think we should call it a day.” Dimitri looks up to the roof as well, frowning as the sun hits his eyes. “You can keep my shirt if you want, I have plenty of them.”

There’s no way he can do that, Hilda will never leave him rest in peace if he does.

Speaking of Hilda, she’s waiting for him outside the training ground, skin as perfect as ever but her usual carefree attitude is gone; did something bad happen while they were training? The shadow – no, Hilda is unharmed, she looks more uneasy than scared, she’s playing with the front of her skirt and looking at the ground – well, she’s certainly not looking at Claude when she speaks.

“Claude. You know I like you right? We’re good friends.”

Oh he really doesn’t like where this is going, but he doesn’t really have a choice, does he?

“Anyway, I just want to let you know that sometimes friends aren’t perfect. I am not always perfect, even if it’s difficult to believe.” What has she done again? He hopes he isn’t going to regret it, he likes Hilda too much to hate her – they truly _are_ friends. “I wish you will find enough kindness in your small beating heart to forgive me. I am truly sorry.”

And with that she’s gone.

And someone comes to him, a monk, he’s summoned in the Reception Hall – what did Hilda do?

He’s honestly trying not to panic – smile Claude, smile, His Princeliness is still here watching you with some concern in his pretty blue eyes, and you really don’t need the attention right now. He’s rather proud of his steps, firm and steady as he follows the monk inside, where he finds Byleth talking to Judith.

Judith from House Daphnel.

Claude lets out the breath he’s been holding the whole time. Judith! Here! He’s so happy to see her, but she clearly isn’t there for a courtesy visit – as much as he adores her they both know she has no time for that kind of stuff.

He can’t help it, but seeing her here flesh and blood, smiling the moment he enters her field of vision warms something in his chest – perhaps it’s his small beating heart. “If it isn’t my little Claude! What has you so worked up?”

“Judith!” He smiles so much his cheeks aches, “What are you doing here?”

“That’s Lady Judith to you boy. I told you, until you’re in charge, I expect you to address me with all due respect.” Of course he never wanted to disrespect her rank, she is a living legend after all, but he adores her so much he wants to get rid of the titles and be close like they used to, or when it’s just the two of them – and now it hits him how awful it might be for Dimitri to be called His Highness all the time when his heart aches for _Dimitri._

“Anyway, I’m here to retrieve you. Duke Riegan’s condition has taken a turn for the worse.”

Oh, how inconvenient. “Are you saying the old man’s on his death bed?”

“No it’s not that bad. But in the state he’s in, he won’t be able to participate in the next roundtable conference.” Ah, so this is it. He needs a substitute. “He wants you to go in his stead. I volunteered to play the messenger.”

The knowledge is pleasant – she chose to come here to see him and spend time with him, and even if Claude is tough and shouldn’t be disturbed by such futilities, it is nice from time to time to remember there’s someone out there who truly likes him.

They go to Hanneman then his room where he gets a couple of stuff for the journey, he won’t be out for long but-

“Claude? You’re leaving?”

Dimitri stands in front of his own room, changed with his former attire – he catches sight of Judith only then, he bows, presenting himself as Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd, future King of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus, and Claude’s friend. His friend. Claude is _this_ _close_ to blush.

“As much as I hate leaving your side Your Highness, I’m afraid this lady here requires my assistance, or is kidnapping me, I’ll let the interpretation in your care.”

“Good to see you’re in your element here boy,” he pouts, but quickly turns to Dimitri who looks distraught.

“She’s not _really_ kidnapping me.”

“That much I have figured out. You wouldn’t surrender without a fight.”

“This is because you don’t know how strong she is,” Claude wines, eyes to the heavens, “I absolutely have no chance against her.”

“Boy, are you finished? We don’t have all day and the we’ve got a long journey back to Deridue.”

Dimitri’s eyes widen, and for some reason Claude can’t help but stare – his heart skips a beat even, but this passes unnoticed. They are so blue, have they always been so blue?

“Claude my boy, could you respond to your friend here instead of giving him the silent treatment?” She sounds a mix of annoyed and amused. Claude puts two and two together quickly, figuring out he must have missed what Dimitri has asked him. How?

“I…am just going to a boring reunion, nothing sophisticated.” He hopes he guesses what Dimitri’s inquiry has been about right, quick, a distraction, they need a distraction. “And don’t worry about your clothes, I’ll wash them and bring them back to you when I come back.”

“I already told you, you can keep them.” Dimitri already looks more relax, his shoulders lowers and he unclenches his fists, has he really been that worried?

“No no no, besides they don’t fit me at all, don’t tell me you haven’t noticed I could very well use them as a night robe.”

“Boy.”

“I know I know. Ah, it’s so difficult to be so popular. Don’t miss me too much okay?” Claude sends him a wink before turning his back and following Judith, who has already taken down the stairs. Claude waves to Lysithea and Leonie as he passes by them, Ignaz paints hidden behind a bushes – where is Hilda? What she told him earlier…

“Your friend is awfully polite, what a breeze of fresh air.” Judith comments as they pass the porch. Lady Rhea surveys their departure from her roof.

“You have no idea. Have you seen Hilda? I wanted to say goodbye.”

“Is she one of your friend too? Holst Goneril’s little sister?”

“The one and only.” He says with a grin.

“I figured as such…” They get on their horses with Claude’s stuff secured on the back. Judith waited until they are far from the Monastery and its grey walls, far from any unwanted ears to talk again. “So tell me boy, does this strong, honest, brave, sensible, kind and handsome guy, too perfect to exist happens to be your friend the future King of Faerghus?”

Claude chokes, almost falls from his horse. In her room drinking tea with Marianne, Hilda sneezes.

* * *

Claude is back a couple of days before the Blue Lions leave for their missions. The visit was just a walk in the park – and if you’ve asked Claude, this was merely a test, a trap set by his grandfather to prove the rest of the Alliance that his grandson and legitimate heir, as much as they despite the idea, is capable – if it hadn’t been for Hilda’s betrayal.

What on Fódlan, has he done, to her!?

Judith has been infernal during the whole trip and after, asking so many questions about…Dimitri and him when – can’t they all see he’s doing it for the future of the Alliance? Even Dimitri understood!

“Oh boy, you have no idea of what kind of face you make when you look at him. You’re enamoured.”

 _Enamoured_.

As if. He’s the charming one. Not the storybook Prince, this one is plain boring.

“He’s lawful, honest,” he told her, not in an attempt to make her change her mind because it would give her crazy idea too much credit. “We’re polar opposite. I like that in an ally.”

“And he’s got pretty eyes too.”

“Mine are prettier.” He escaped with a wink and they left the matter at that – nowhere, because there is no matter. Whatever they saw it was all in their imagination.

As expected Hilda hides from him when he arrives and the couple of days after, meaning he remains alone in his room or at the library – does Linhardt count as a presence when all he does is read and sleep? – until Lorenz knocks on his door.

Lorenz, all of the people.

“May I come in?”

And that’s exactly when Claude senses something has changed, because Lorenz has never used that tone or been that polite with him – as if the hate that was eating him alive has vanished in a couple of days. He straightens his back, “Yeah, come in!” he says loud enough. Lorenz steps in, with Dimitri’s clothes in hands.

With Dimitri’s clothes in hand?

“Oh, before we get to serious matter, Hilda gave this to me.” Oh, this explains…did she get into his room while he was away? “She is somehow certain that you might not want to talk to her for the time being, may I inquire if something bad happened between the two of you – are you, perhaps, in a relationship-“

“No no, nothing of the sort!” Could people leave him alone with his love life, isn’t it obvious he has absolutely no time for one? “We had…a small fight. At distance. But it’s over now, you can tell her she can get out of her hiding place.” Claude takes the clothes, they smell like soap and roses. “What is the serious matter you want to talk about?”

Of course Claude knows it’s his visit to Deridue – after all Claude met all the Alliance’s leaders, including Lorenz’s father, and there’s no one more important in Lorenz’s life than his father and what he can think of him. Claude has been clever on that one. It might has cost him a lot of his pride but saying nice things about Lorenz to his father might be the straighter way to his heart.

“My father sent me a letter about your…participation in this moon’s reunion. I admit I am still surprised by what he wrote. You were, and I used his words, ‘astonishingly at ease and eloquent’.”

“Does it really surprised you this much? You’ve known me for three moons now Lorenz, I thought my talent hasn’t passed unnoticed. I’m hurt.”

“Of course not, but what you said about me…do you really think I am honourable and a chivalrous? That my skill with a lance in hands equals those of the best nobles from around Fódlan?”

“Well, I do! I’ve known you for three moons now Lorenz, again I don’t understand why you’re so surprised.”

His gaze drops to the ground as Claude watches him, expectantly – he knows he can see him even if he’s not being stare at. “It seems I have…misjudged you. I thought you didn’t think so highly of me, but your words were kind and honest. Thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome.”

“And I am also…thankful that you didn’t mention the little altercation I had with the Professor.” He adds a little bit quieter. Ah yes, that was hilarious, and he could have used it to his advantage – or even to blackmail it seems – but this seems so irrelevant at the moment. The problem with priorities is that everyone has their own, and only a few share the same.

“Of course, I would have never betray such an unappealing secret, especially to your father. I’m not a monster, and even if we’re not friends you’re my classmate after all.” Claude takes a book from the ground and opens it at a random page, just to give the impression he’s too busy to pursue the interview.

“About that…what are your favourite leaves?”

Claude had no idea demands of friendship were be so formal before going to Garreg Mach.

* * *

Bow in hand Claude enters the Monastery walls with the rest of the Golden Deers with a couple of more bruises. This missions has been the most dangerous one so far, even Hanneman has to used one of his most powerful magic against those bandits – but they prevailed. All have made fantastic progress in their strong point which couldn’t make Claude prouder of his classmates. They truly are improving as a group and individuals, some of them can already pretend to the next certificate.

Yet Claude tries not to smile too much; there’s a deep cut on his lovely cheekbones, and with Marianne out of white magic it hurts like hell – of course it’s not like he can complain, when Leonie has nearly broken her arm and Lorenz got hit in the stomach pretty bad. Well, the dried blood can wait-

They halt when they spot Byleth going out of the stables with a horse in each hands, quickly followed by the whole Blue Lion class. What a perfect timing again, they’re going north, to the Kingdom. Claude’s eyes especially look for Sylvain in the crowd, but the only ginger hair he sees are Annette’s deep in conversation with her friend Mercedes.

“Oh look Mercie, that’s the Golden Deers! Oh no, Claude you’re hurt!”

“Let me see.” Claude tries to escape from Mercedes’s attention but soon find her delicate hands on his cheek and can’t find the strength to turn her down. “It’s deep but not too serious. Do you want me to heal it?”

“Oh no, by all means! You have your own mission to attempt to. I don’t want any of you to get hurt because you didn’t have any stamina to heal your comrades.”

“These are wise words coming from a wise man.” Sylvain eventually joins them, wearing his black armour. He did pass the Cavalier certificate it seems, who would have thought with how irregular with his training he’s been since the beginning of the year. “Ouch, that’s a pretty nasty cut you have here.”

“You shouldn’t worry about such trivial thing and concentrate on your task at hand. Sylvain, good luck. May the Goddess be with you.”

Sylvain gives him a warm smile – they have changed since that day, since that chess game – and got on his horse. “Thank you. We’ll leave the banquet celebration to your class!”

“Ah ah, you can count on the Golden Deers for that.”

“Claude!”

He freezes, but this was bound to happen – Claude isn’t stupid enough to think they could avoid stumbling upon Dimitri before their departure but he wished he had more time alone to digest all Judith has told him in the previous days, of what _he_ had said.

_‘You’re enamoured.’_

Strong handsome boring lawful honest upright Dimitri.

Strong jawline, straight nose, full rosy lips and the brightest blue eyes he’s ever seen.

He likes the way they look at him, he likes the way he says his name.

“Claude!”

They’re something hopeful in the way he says his name. Like he’s simply happy to see him and not because he wants his attention, or needs something from him. Everyone one else needs him because he’s their house leader or heir to House Riegan or a good archer but not Dimitri. And suddenly he understands, why the Prince yearns for people to call him by his name.

Dimitri calls him Claude as Claude says Dimitri and not His Highness, and it feels good, it feels so good.

“You’re hurt! Is everything alright?”

It truly feels good.

“Yeah, just a small cut! Nothing Manuella can’t heal. At least I hope, I don’t want my handsome face to suffer from such a nasty wound.”

Dimitri lets out something from his mouth that’s supposed to be a laugh if Claude has to guess but comes out a bit wrong – half refrained – then Dimitri fakes to clear his throat, visibly embarrassed by the whole sequence.

Claude smiles and his cheek hurts.

“Be careful okay? I know you’re strong enough to beat an entire army on your own, but the guy you’re facing has a relic.”

“Well, hum, thank you. We’ve got the Professor and the sword of the Creator on our side, so it should be alright.”

“But you can never dismiss the possibility of the worst case scenario, right?” Claude carefully reused Dimitri’s own words, hoping he’s getting ahead of himself, hoping Teach, if anything really bad happens, can handle it with their inhuman power they seem to have. There is no way Dimitri can get hurt, he won’t accept it.

“Your concern honours me, my friend. I’ll make sure to prove yourself that they are unnecessary though.”

“Hey, what are you doing boar?” Felix rushes to them and takes his future King by the arm. “We’re late, you’re supposed to lead.”

He’s furious for a reason Claude can’t quite pinpoint yet – Felix is by far the one he has less affinity with. Sylvain told him he has a heart inside that thick, sharp layer of hate he bears as an armour. Only someone who has been hurt in the past would behave that way - aren’t they all anyway?

In any cases, Claude has the feeling Felix really hates him.

“Good luck then.” Claude thumbs up, watching Dimitri leaves as he sends him an apologetic smile. He gets on his horse and he’s gone, dust covering his trace.

Claude stands here deep in thoughts for a while. He thinks of Judith, of her words, always.

Is he, _really_? Can he? How?

“So,” he has forgotten Hilda was there the whole time. “That was, awkward.”

He doesn’t feel like he needs to reply.

“You were staring.”

He doesn’t deny it, not this time.

“Am I allowed to say something?”

Claude lazily turns to her, his eyes dark – he’s still pretending to be mad at her when he’s not, not really, not anymore – and sighs. “What?”

Yet despite his gloomy face Hilda grins, proud of herself. “To me it looks like he was staring too.”

He kicks her legs before she runs out of reach.

Night comes quickly for their exhausted bodies. Claude restlessly turns around in his own bed. He could be reading like he usually does but there’s something out there he doesn’t like.

Silence.

None of his neighbours have been back to their room when he’s sure he saw Teach walking to Rhea an hour before. It’s not that he’s worried, he isn’t – there’s no need to, Teach is alive and unharmed after all so the students must be too – he just wants to know where they are.

Tired of his own mind not shutting up when he begs for it, Claude throws his sheets on the floor and takes his coat. He goes to the training ground first, assured he’ll find at least one of them–

It’s empty. Well, not really, Caspar is sleeping with his axe in hands under the porch. Linhardt must be rubbing off on him – it doesn’t tell him where Felix is in any cases.

He finds him in the refectory eating a cake with Annette. “What?” he barks with his mouth still full.

He looks on edge, Annette as well. On edge but unharmed.

Whatever happened in the Kingdom left traces.

He steps bring him to the Cathedral then. Someone is talking – shouting to be precise – and he recognizes Sylvain’s voice easily.

“He wanted to kill me! To kill me, his own brother and now he’s…gone! And I’m the one who killed him. I’m the one…”

“Oh, Sylvain…”

Claude remains hidden at the entrance, watching as Mercedes holds him in her arms while Sylvain cries his heart out. He has no room here. He walks away as quietly as possible.

So Sylvain killed his older brother. This was doomed to happen, Sylvain knew it before going to battle but still, knowing and actually giving the last blow are two different things, Claude figures. He’ll never be able to be in his shoes but he feels like he understands his words better now, or how he could envy him.

Everyone has their own scars to hide and live with.

He ends up in the Library.

“Claude, I thought I’ll find you here.”

Dimitri is waiting for him. How he came to the conclusion that he’d had more chance to find Claude here than in his room is a total mystery, but it did work in the end.

Actually Dimitri has a book in hand, one he puts back in the bookshelf – the same one he’s been to every time Claude saw him, books concerning the Empire. There’s an idea obsessing him, one they have never discuss of, not yet at least.

But now is hardly the time. There’s the same shadow on Dimitri’s face Claude has seen on Annette, Felix and Sylvain. The shadow of a terrible truth.

“What happened?”

Dimitri looks down. “The Archbishop asked that we stay…discreet about what we saw.”

“But you can’t.” Claude guesses, he guesses by the way the Prince clenches his fists, the curve of his shoulders that is far too obtuse, how his lips form a thin line – he’s biting on his lower lip, he sees the white of the front teeth. “You can’t keep it to yourself.”

“It was,” Dimitri still stares at the ground, “Horrible. Horrible.” He repeats, and Claude rushes to his side.

They sit next to each other and Claude listens. The rain, Sylvain, the tower, the bandits, the ambush; they managed all that at ease with Teach and their own strength. Miklan had the Lance of Ruin and used it against his future King and against his own blood. In the end, the Lance claimed its owner’s life in turning him into a monster, a beast.

“It was tall like three men, big as…a monster coming directly from Hell. Its skin was black and thick, we had to use our best weapons to be able to cut through…”

Dimitri tells him about the fight and how Sylvain pierced his skull. The beast vanished like smoke, leaving Miklan’s body and the Lance of Ruin behind. He was dead. The Lance burned when Sylvain took it in his hand.

“It was as if the Relic ate his soul and transformed him into this…abomination.”

But the real question is, did this happen because Miklan didn’t have a crest, or are all Relics capable of such atrocities? What does the Church have to say about such matters? What about Teach? What about Claude and his own Relic, waiting for him in the Riegan’s treasure room?

“I was thinking, perhaps, we could play chess tonight.” Dimitri’s request catches him off guard. He isn’t in shape to- “I really need to think about something else.”

Claude is about to suggest they can train until one of them collapses from tiredness – and he knows fully it’s not going to be Dimitri – but there’s something in the way Dimitri speaks, moves, looks at him that leaves no place to negotiation. Perhaps it’s the King in him that doesn’t ask but orders, but for tonight Claude is fine with that.

They gain his room. They sit on the floor, the board between them. Dimitri politely lets him choose his colour and Claude goes for the white. The game stars, white pawn on e4. Black pawn on e5. White knight on f3.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about crests and nobility and its importance in the Kingdom.” Dimitri’s eyes are on the game but his mind isn’t clear from today’s battle yet. “I used to talk about it with my father and advisors before they passed. Sometimes Rodrigue would give me some of his time to share his thoughts.” He ends up defending his paw by moving another pawn on d6, protecting it from Claude’s knight. A clever move. “Would you mind if I share those silly thoughts with you?”

“I see no objection.” Claude takes care not to look at Dimitri’s face too much, Judith’s and Hilda’s words are still lingering in the air. “But why would you call them silly?”

“I…don’t know. I am tempted to believe it is my lack of experience that forces me to be humble about my own opinion on this serious matter.”

“But you’re about to be King right?” Bishop to c4. “It’s your opinion that counts.”

“I won’t be ruling alone.” Dimitri grasps his chin, overlooking the board for a few minutes without talking and Claude allows himself a glance. There’s not even a bruise, not a trace of dust on his royal blue cape, he’s immaculate despite their tough fight. A real force of nature. That’s when Claude realizes he’s not wearing his gauntlets.

Black bishop to g4. Hm, this is getting interesting.

“I think people are giving too much importance to crests and nobility.” Claude is ashamed to admit but he’s only half listening, first because Dimitri last move has an obscure timing – except if he was trying to destabilize him, but it’s not working – and two because he’s got a perfect scheme to end this in a couple of moves, and if there’s something he can’t quite resist it’s an easy occasion to shine. “To me, Margrave Gautier was wrong to inherit his oldest son.”

“Sylvain thinks the same.”

“He does, but for obvious reasons I don’t want to talk about such painful things with him. Sometimes I try to imagine how a world without crests would work. Sure there would be less tragedies like the one in house Gautier and people would care less about filiation and more about people true merits, but then what about the Relics? The Kingdom will slowly lose its power, and be less able to defend its borders.”

“Then you’ll just have to find another way to fight. Or,” Claude moves his second knight to c3, “If all the regions of Fódlan follow your lead, then we can bury the Relics six feet under and start a new area with brand new weapons.”

Dimitri laughs quietly, “Perhaps we could also not engage in a matter of war.”

“Perhaps, but you know how men are. If they see a weakness, like, you getting rid of crests and Relics…” Claude watches as Dimitri moves a pawn to g6, again, what was that for? “They will gladly invade you.”

“If only people could stop fighting each other…”

“This is not going to happen anytime soon, sorry to wake you abruptly from your nice dream Your Highness.” He knows how painful the fall is, being a bit of a dreamer himself. “As long as we’re building walls and not bridges around our borders there is no way we can achieve durable peace within Fódlan, and the different countries around for what it’s worth.”

“What do you suggest then?”

Before answering Claude halts and ponders if he should play his killer move now or wait a bit longer, he likes where the conversation is going. “I told you. Bridges. Commercial bridges between old enemies. Destroying prejudices of the outsiders, melting the population, opening our borders…”

White knight takes pawn on e5. Dimitri gasps.

“Claude you’re…” He moves immediately as if scared that Claude would regret his action but no, everything is perfectly thought. Black bishop takes the white Queen on d1. “This was a careless move.”

“Ah, my bad, you can say I was a bit carried away by the idea of sharing our dreams of the future of Fódlan. Dimitri, you have to believe in my sincerity when I speak about such important things as our future.” The same can’t be said for most of his words, but here he speaks with an open heart. “You can’t hope for a future without crest if the country isn’t at peace. And it means the three of us, plus the countries across our borders. Brigid, Dagda, Almyra, Duscur, Sreng…And the best way to keep them at bay for the longest time possible is to give them a reason not to fight against you.”

“Friendship?” Dimitri raises an eyebrow. He is catching on Claude’s logic after all.

“Well, friendship works for people, not nation. But I’m honoured you recognized my effort to make this place a better world by forcing myself to enjoy your company.”

Dimitri frowns and uncrosses his arms, panic reads on his face, “Are you really-“

“Of course I was joking. Relax Dimitri! I told you, we’re friends now.”

But it seems to have very little effect on the Prince, who keeps frowning for the entire game and even after. To his surprise Claude doesn’t take the bishop who took his Queen, his best weapon but instead a pawn on f7 with his own bishop. He’s confused, he can read it on his face and it’s exactly what Claude wants. He knows he’s falling for a trap but can’t see which one yet. The feeling is thrilling.

“Check.”

Dimitri bites on his thumb. The situation is dire but not lost, or so he thinks.

“What I suggest is that we should open our borders, for trade mostly. There are only two things men understand in this world, it’s blood and money. If we want to get rid of one we have to offer the other.”

Dimitri plays the only move he’s allowed to save his King and places it on e7.

“And then what? We open our borders, people from around the continent comes and goes, as well as spies…“

“But there aren’t that many spies! Look at Petra, and Dedue,” and me, he wants to add. “As things are only the bad guys cross the borders, but if we open them everyone could enter and meet each other Merchants, monks, mothers, cooks…” Claude moves his second knight to d5. “And then, everyone can see we’re all just humans, we’re all the same. We breathe the same air, eat the same food – well, almost – we can’t live without water. But this won’t be easy, it will take time. Commercial co-dependency will be quicker to establish than resolving centuries of hates and hardship.”

“Making commercial deals to avoid conflict…avoid conflict to end the supremacy of crest…this is giving me a headache.” Dimitri looks down on the board, but-

“Oh, checkmate by the way.”

“What?!”

Claude laughs, then explains how Dimitri fell into his trap.

“It’s called the Légal trap, named after a famous player, I’m sure you can find the story of his game in some books in the Library. I lured you into thinking you had the advantage and sacrifice my Queen to mate with less powerful pieces – my knights and bishop.”

“How could I have been…so careless!”

“There’s no need to feel bad, I’m an excellent player after all, and you’ve just learned the basic.”

“But Sylvain told me I should carefully watch my opponent’s face when I play, in case it betrays their intention.”

“Ah! But it only works if your opponent is playing with their heart open.” Claude rests his chin on the palm of his hand, lazy eyes on Dimitri and his naivete. “You can stare at me all you want, but you’ll never know what I’m thinking.”

Dimitri drops his eyes to the ground. In hindsight, considering what Claude is trying to achieve it was, perhaps, the last thing to tell him. Claude hasn’t meant it for all the things they have shared earlier but just for chess, and games in general but deep down, he knows this is exactly who he is, who he wants to be. Someone people will never be able to read. But these kind of people have no ally and cannot be trusted, Claude knows it and that’s why he’s working very hard on giving the impression that people can, with time and his approbation, have a glimpse of what transpires from his mind.

He wants Dimitri to believe he does. Please, he needs him to trust him.

“Speaking of which, isn’t it strange, Claude? How you dream of breaking the barriers around Fódlan, and yet you’ve built one around yourself, refusing to let people in.” No, he isn’t, it’s just impossible for him to let people in. But Dimitri won’t understand, he’s always have a place to live, a place to be. He isn’t- “The more we talk, the more I realize I know nothing about you. It’s kind of…upsetting, to say the least. Do you trust me so little?”

“Of course I trust you!” His voice is forced, the game he’s been playing for moons is crumbling, how? How did he let it happen? It took only one sentence and deception in Dimitri’s eyes to lay a critical hit to his farce. He smiles but for the first time in ages, he can feel how it never reaches his eyes – he’s not even able to fool himself, how could Dimitri not see through his disguise? “We’re friends, remember? I don’t have that much here.” Or anywhere else. “You know a lot about me already.”

“No I don’t. Not as much as I would want to. But it is getting late.” Dimitri gets on his feet and that’s when Claude panics. What does it mean? Is Dimitri upset? Are they still friends? Why is he leaving? “Thank you for tonight. It was rather…insightful.”

Why is he leaving the moment Claude let out a hint of what he’s truly made of inside?

“Okay, I’m glad I could be of any help.” The nonchalance in his voice doesn’t match his blank face at all. He can see how Dimitri frowns at him because of that. He can’t fake a smile. He can’t fake anything, his mask has fallen and shattered on the ground and now, Dimitri is walking on it, crushing it under his boots.

He seems like he wants to add something but after a couple of second standing still in front of Claude’s door, eyes trailing from his feet to Claude’s feet to his braid and dull emerald eyes, Dimitri finally returns to his room without a word.

When he’s gone, Claude closes the door slowly. He leans in, then slides on the floor.

Hopefully there’s a cushion at arm’s reach. He brings it close to his chest and curls his limbs around, then buries his face inside and screams.

* * *

The scene replays endlessly like a nightmare. He arrives in the library, Dimitri is here, he turns around and he says _“Do you trust me so little-“_

Then Claude walks again in the library and Dimitri is there, and when he turns to him he says _“you’ve built one around yourself-“_

And it never seems to end.

Claude is tired of going to the library, but he’s stuck in the loop.

“What’s this boy? Is it one of your scheme?” Judith leans on a pillar, a book in hand – it’s the book Dimitri had in hands when he found him. “But who are you fooling here?”

Dimitri. He’s fooling Dimitri – no, he’s fooling everyone. It’s just that until now he didn’t care. He wants to be mysterious, undefinable, impossible to grasp, it has been the deal from the beginning then why? Why did it hurt when Dimitri said-

_“I know nothing about you.”_

_“Do you trust me so little?”_

“Do you? Trust him? This boy, this Prince you find so perfect.”

“He’s not.” Claude adds quickly. No one is perfect, Dimitri has his own flaws, his own cracks, he just can’t see them yet.

“You can’t see them, or you don’t want to?”

Claude turns to Judith, well, ‘Judith’, “Who are you?” He’s having one of his introspective dreams again, he knows he’s alone.

Behind them the scene repeats endlessly – Claude coming inside the library, Dimitri smiling, putting his book back and _“I know nothing about you-“_

“I’m reason. Or logic, call me whatever you want. The part of your mind that thinks rationally.”

So this is it, he’s mostly talking to himself.

“So?”

The question remains. Is he deliberately ignoring what he doesn’t want to see in Dimitri or is the Prince better at hiding his secrets than Claude is? It’s difficult to think when he keeps hearing his voice again, and again, and again _“– it’s…upsetting, to say the least”_ \- and it hurts.

“Why does it hurt Claude?”

Hilda stands next to him, smiling, moving her arms from side to side as she often does – it’s part of his memories of her. What does she stand for? Laziness? Is he talking this not seriously enough?

“Of course you’re not.” Judith says, the book still in hand. “She’s the part of your brain that doesn’t think rationally. And yes, even you have one, it’s called a heart.”

Hilda repeats her movement, tirelessly, in sync with his heartbeat – it makes sense after all. No, nothing in this dream makes sense – why is the scene on a loop? This isn’t even when he fucked up! It was in his room, after they played chess and-

Why this?

“Why did you come here?” Judith asks.

That’s true. It was more than plausible the library would have been empty at this late hour – at best Linhardt would have been sleeping on his usual spot.

“You were worried,” Hilda replies for him. “You’ve looked for him everywhere you usually see him and he wasn’t there. You couldn’t find him anywhere. Worse, you found his friends in tears, but where was he? What if he was alone and broken like Sylvain?”

The scene repeats. Claude enters the library, Dimitri sees him and-

“Claude, I thought I’ll find you here.”

And then it freezes. He was looking for Dimitri, wanted to make sure everything was okay.

“That’s what friends do.” He justifies himself.

“And you sure know how to be a good friend, you’ve read so much about the subject after all.” Judith’s tone – his own tone – is accusing, a demonstration of how much fake he is. “So tell me now, can you see them?”

And suddenly Dimitri’s bright face cracks. It runs from his forehead to his chin, down his throat under his uniform. Claude rushes to him but he’s still frozen. The crack is so thin, so tiny, he can’t help but touch it, travel its curve with his finger. It’s cold as marble.

“Think my boy. What kind of demons rule him?”

Everyone has their own. Men were ruled by two things, money and blood. One would add sex and pride as well to finish the picture, but Dimitri seems immune to anything that can touch common people – he isn’t like most of them, most people. He’s something else entirely.

“Is that so?” Hilda says. She spins on herself quicker.

Claude looks back again, Judith is talking but he can’t hear her voice anymore – why is that? Does Dimitri hush his good sense? Forcing him to use his intuition more than rational thoughts when they are together?

“He’s bright, so bright, look at him Claude,” Hilda whispers in his ears. “He’s the indisputable heir of House Blaiddyd, the long awaited future King of Faerghus everyone already loves and adores. He’s got so many friends from the moment he was born, friends that are still supporting him blindly, who will give their lives for his. He’s the Prince in every fairy tales, the one your mother used to when you were little. Claude, doesn’t he look like them?”

With Hilda’s mouth stuck on his ear, Claude watches, petrified, as the rest of Dimitri’s feature crumbles at his feet, revealing underneath a face he hasn’t thought would be here.

It’s himself. It’s not Claude, but it’s _him_ , the person he left behind when he arrived in Fódlan.

“Doesn’t he look like everything you wanted to be? He’s got so many things you crave for. You don’t fit anywhere. You have no friend who truly know you. You’re so insecure no one knows your real name, not even Judith.”

“Shut up.” He mutters. He gets it now. He thought he was looking for Dimitri’s crack, but he’s only staring at his own. Is he really that ugly? Does he see in Dimitri the person he would have wanted to be?

“Dimitri has lost his parents, his friends as you called them rarely refer to him by his real name anymore. His Kingdom barely stands on its feet, and you really want to be in that guy’s shoes?” Judith is talking to Hilda, he notices. They are ignoring him, because Claude is too busy staring at his own face – it’s like staring into the mirror, but only to see his self from a couple of moons ago with a sly smile on his face.

“I know you.” He says, and Claude listens, “And you know me. We’re the same, but not really. You’re trying to be desirable like the storybook Prince with your own weapons, and you’re not doing that bad, at least until now.”

“Desirable?” Judith repeats.

“Strong, handsome, kind, perfect, desirable Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.” Hilda goes on and the scene repeats itself again. Claude enters the library, Dimitri – his face perfect, immaculate - sees him and smiles. “Claude, I thought I’ll find you here.” He’s happy to see him, he walks to him then halts. “Oh, but you’re hurt.”

This is not what happened. But Claude doesn’t care. Because Dimitri, hand free from his gauntlet, caresses the almost invisible cut on his cheekbone and Claude leans into the touch. It’s warm. His hands are warm. He closes his eyes.

“Oh boy. You’re enamoured.”

“I’m not,” he murmurs, eyes still close, face still searching for Dimitri’s touch.

“Claude, you’re staring.”

“’m not.” He hisses when Dimitri’s thumb traces the cut’s outline, it didn’t really hurt but it forces him to open his eyes. He likes how he’s being stare at. As if he’s handsome, unique, worth of the Prince’s attention. He likes Dimitri’s eyes, they are honest, always, they are also blue like the sky in Almyra during Blue Sea Moon. He likes the form of his chin, the shape of his lips, how his hair falls on his forehead.

He’s staring. And Dimitri stares back. And it’s a moment suspended in time when their breathings align, a second extended for them to bask in the most anguish, thrilling moment when one realizes the depth and true nature of his feelings and acts accordingly, the few seconds when he tiptoes and closes his lids.

He can’t lure himself anymore.

He’s enamoured.

Claude leans in. His lips running on Dimitri’s chin first, then his cheek, then his lips – and in terms of introspection, Claude doesn’t know if he’s making out with Dimitri or himself, but it’s too troublesome to think in such a pleasant situation. He kisses Dimitri with full lips and Dimitri kisses back, eagerly, he opens his mouth and lets an experienced tongue travel on his lower lip – Claude is lost in bliss, who could have thought, who could have _thought_ it was so simple. Just a few words, a hand on his cheek and a pull and then, something explodes in his chest, a flower blooms in his stomach Judith is long gone in the corner of his mind. Nothing really matters anymore, not the Alliance, Lorenz’s eternal dissatisfaction, his fear of being rejected for who he is, his fear of dying, the future of Fódlan and beyond; all is small, so small and insignificant under Dimitri’s touch. As his powerful hands caress his face with a delicacy Claude would have never thought he possesses, Claude too feels small, and weak, as if his body was made of clay. They kiss without pausing, they don’t need to breathe – this is nothing but a dream after all – and how much Claude would want it to last forever, to be just Claude, just a young man touched by the grace of youth love, to do something else than planning three or more schemes ahead to adapt to any situation in order to survive in a world filled with greed and violence, when they all could be doing must pleasant activities. Oh, if only this moment could last forever, he wishes. It’s just him, and Dimitri and they are kissing in the library and his hand on his cheek lowers to his chin, then his throat, and it tightens around his Adam’s apple with his inhuman strength and then Claude can’t breathe anymore.

He breaks the kiss, looks back at his attacker – Dimitri’s eyes are gone, they’re all black, he’s got a mad grin on his face and he-

Claude wakes up before suffocating. He brings his hand to his throat, and another under his cushion where he hides his dagger. Only the ghost of Dimitri’s hand remains, the feeling of his full lips on his is gone. Alone in the dark, he catches his breath slowly. It was only a bad dream. It’s not the first nor the last, he knows that – he spent his childhood and early teen years fighting assassination attempts, so of course he would have nightmares from time to time, even in secured place such as the Monastery – but this one was particularly disturbing. Is it because he finally confronted his feeling for Dimitri, or the fact that he kissed him, or the terrible timing? It can’t be a coincidence that it’s the moment he succumbed to his desire that he almost got himself killed by the object of his fantasy.

It took him a couple of hours to go back to sleep. In the end, he still feels bad about what happened tonight, scared Dimitri might not want to be his friends anymore, ashamed to realize he has been projecting his ugly part on the Prince’s self, and went as far as envying him when his life hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park either, he feels bad for enjoying his touch so much, for wanting his lips on his so much.

He can almost hear Judith inside his head talking, severely.

“You enter people’s life and make yourself indispensable, so that you can always ask them for help when you need anything. You’re good at finding what people needs and how to obtain those things. But tell me now little Claude, who needed a friend the most? Him, or you?”

He’s slowly losing at his own game, he knows it, but the worst is yet to come, for he can’t find the will to turn the table to his advantage anymore.


	8. Horsebow moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Claude? Aren’t you going to say it?”
> 
> What is he going to fight against?
> 
> “Say what?”
> 
> Hilda leans her temple on the wall behind, watching him closely.
> 
> “You have a crush on Dimitri.” Her words slide on him. “It’s alright, it’s not a big deal, I think half of the Monastery has one. You should, how did you say already? Ah yes, fess up.” She laughs, and Claude would probably join her if it weren’t at his expense – to think he said such things to Dimitri for their first mock battle, and now his venom makes a dramatic come back to bite on his own ass. What a fine tactician Claude, most brightest mind of all Fódlan, who succumbs to the first and most common evil of all.
> 
> “No, it’s nothing.” He decides. As long as he doesn’t say it.

* * *

#### Horsebow moon

.

* * *

The first of days of Horsebow moon pass achingly slowly, a pure torture for Claude’s heart, but that is only until Flayn disappears; from then on everything happens in a blur.

How careless have they all been, to enjoy their lazy leisure in the afternoon after classes, were they enjoying the sun from the gardens or hiding, like Claude, from some particularly destabilizing pair of eyes in his room or the library – by avoiding the Cathedral and the training ground, but luckily enough those habits weren’t an essential part of his routine. Each time he saw them, the ghost of Dimitri’s hand threatening to size his neck and cutting the bloodstream aimed at his brain resurfaced, along with the guilty pleasure of his lips on his - a feeling that was purely coming from his imagination unlike the other. That’s why it’s easier to forget about what it could feel like to kiss Dimitri. It’s easier because Claude has only experienced the fear of dying as far, and never the anguish not to be kissed back. He put it all aside.

This is perhaps the worst idea he’s ever had. It’s not even an idea – Lady logic, Judith, would never approve of such a scheme – it’s something unknown that comes from his guts, like his survival instinct it’s not something his brain has any control over. Claude has spent days and nights developing his intellect, sharpening his mind so that he could answer to this archaic need of survival under any circumstances; he is far from pleased to realize he has to figure out all sort of new schemes on the spot now in order to master another idiotic aberration of his.

It was just a dream after all, it’s not even real.

Nothing was.

The Blue Lions are rather discreet after their missions in the north. He would have never thought he’d say this one day, but they miss Sylvain hitting on girls on every occasion, they miss Annette and her laughs and silly songs, they miss Ashe and Ingrid talking about stories of knights that make them all look like cowards and utter dopes.

But they do not miss Dimitri, at least Claude doesn’t. He barely notices his blond hair when he passes in front of their class and salutes him. Someone has to nudge him so he could respond, a wave of the hand and one of his fake smiles he has perfected over time.

Dimitri walks by without stopping, not that he cares, not that he pays attention anyway.

“Hn, is there some trouble brewing?”

Bemused, Claude turns to the person on his side, who just shared their thoughts. He almost didn’t intercept the teasing because he’s so used to it from Hilda, but then his ears register that it’s not his pink haired friend who spoke.

It’s Lysithea.

How did she- when-“And what gives you that silly impression?” he manages to remain assured and composed but inside his thoughts are swirling.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it, but I hope it won’t affect your judgement as our leader.”

“Of course not.” Claude says, a bit too much on the defensive for his own liking.

They just said ‘hi’ in a very respectful way, how did she come to the conclusion that something was off with them? He’s bad at this. So bad, he needs help, he needs to talk to someone - he realizes, with a bitter curve on his lips, that there are really not a lot of things men can achieve on their own.

“Hilda.” He opens her door without knocking, which apparently wakes her up from the nap she was taking on her desk, her chin resting on the palm of her hand, a squill on the other. “You look fabulous, even at the crack of dawn.”

“I wasn’t sleeping.” Of course not, she didn’t just jump and spill the bottle of black ink on her unfinished letter when Claude arrived, and it’s definitely not drool running on her chin.

Claude closes the door behind. “So, what are you up to? Writing a letter to your dear older brother again?”

“Yeah, but I still don’t know what he wants me to talk about this time. I already told him about the incident with the Relic so he has ours guarded when he’s not using it, but he already replied! He’s so annoying.”

“He just cares about you.”

“What are you doing here Claude? Don’t you have better things to do?” She says, without any ill intent – she just knows him too well, there’s always a motive when Claude initiates a meeting.

“Am I forbidden to spend some quality time with my best friend Hilda?”

“Claude.”

“Okay, okay,” he raises his arms in self-defence, she doesn’t have her axe but the goddess knows how she could be destructive when the wrong buttons are pushed. “It’s…about…” and suddenly the word – the name – won’t come out. It’s just Hilda, and Dimitri, and Claude, and it’s not that complicated to ask something out of Hilda, except he doesn’t know how to put it into words. Each time he does it ends up having more depth then he intends – because he wants to know if his _‘thing’_ with the Prince of Faerghus is showing without addressing whatever the _‘thing’_ might be.

“Is it Dimitri?”

She saves him – and, ultimately, the both of them – from a very long and embarrassing moment.

“It is.”

“Oh Goddess, _finally_.” She gets up, walks to her basket from which she puts out some cakes and tea leaves. “I thought you’d never come to me. I was starting to get desperate. Or worse, I thought you had another best friend!”

“And who could that be?”

“Oh please, don’t make me say it.”

Claude frowns, and pretends to leave without further addon.

“Fine! Sylvain!”

Claude almost chokes with his own laugh. It’s true they have spent time playing chess and discussing his crest problematic before the end of last moon, but, Sylvain? “Seriously Hilda, you underestimate yourself. But tell me, why are you making tea? I just have a couple of questions-”

She eyes him, tiredly. “Trust me, this is going to take way more time than you think.”

Hilda made apple tea, which matches the cinnamon cakes perfectly – proving again that she knows very well what she is doing. Claude sits on her bed with his back against the wall while she rests on her desk, Holst’s letter and dried ink long forgotten.

“So, tell me what happened.”

“Well, this morning I was with Lysi-“

“I mean with your Prince in shining armour.” She cuts him.

“Well, if you would let me finish I was getting to the point.”

She sighs, “Ah, Claude. You’re brilliant until it comes to matters of the heart aren’t you?” She readjusts herself and put her hot teacup aside, unphased by Claude’s look of disgust when she mentioned the ‘matters of the heart’ part. “I guess what happened with Lysie is a symptom of something else which could also explain why you changed your behaviour so drastically as of late.”

“I didn’t.” Did he? Judging by the way Hilda stares down at him as if he were a child she caught stealing a bunch of her sweets, that might not be the awaited answer. “I mean. I did perhaps try to…avoid him?”

Good. He said it aloud, and this little already feels wrong.

“Good, we’re making progress fast Claude, I’m proud of you. And why are you avoiding him?”

“I did not come to talk about it. But,” he goes on before she can scold him again. “Lysithea told me something that surprised me, and I hate being surprised by people.”

Hilda lazily rests her head on the back of her chair. She seems resigned to follow his own pace for now. “What did Lysie tell you then?”

He told her about the scene earlier.

“So, you said ‘Hi’ and she sensed something was off? But you think you said it like you usually do?”

Claude doesn’t really like the tone of her voice, but ignores her scepticism anyway. “Well, perhaps I was a bit less demonstrative than usual.”

To that, Hilda bursts out of laughing, which is the last reaction Claude would have anticipated of her. “Oh, Claude von Riegan. Do you even know how you usually behave when His Highness enters your field of vision?”

Claude puts his teacup on the mattress, frowning, “No?” He thought he did, or at least that it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.

“Well, don’t take it badly or anything Claude, I truly love you with all my heart, but here is what you actually do.” She gets up from her chair, a bright smile on her face that – he hopes – looks a lot more fake than the ones he bears. “Here I am Claude von Riegan! Mysterious new leader of the Alliance, behold of my handsome face, behind lies a sea of secrets, darker than the kohl my super best friend puts on her eyes every morning.” She turns to him. “I’m the super best friend.”

“I got it. And, I don’t do that.”

“I’m only _a bit_ exaggerating. First, I need to tell you there’s this thing you do all the time which took me a while to understand. Like, each time you enter a room you look at the door and windows, then at every space that is a bit dark or hidden. When I talked about it with the girls Leonie pointed out you were checking escape routes and your blind spots.”

Claude gulps. He probably does that without thinking.

“So let’s say I am still Claude von Riegan, arriving at the Monastery and checking every corner of each room I step in before engaging into it and then subtly, something changed. I do not look for doors and windows first and foremost, but I scan the room for a tall blond head.”

A nervous laugh escapes his lips. “That, is, not even-“

“And oh who do I see! Isn’t it my friend _Dimitri_ Alexandre Blaiddyd. And yes, you pronounce it exactly _that_ way,” which is cheesy and soppy and absolutely not true! “What can I do to catch his attention? Oh, right, my super best friend Hilda is here, what if I told her a joke to make everyone laugh so he’ll look my way? What if I say something stupidly loud for him to hear my voice?” Claude isn’t sure if he should laugh or cry at her imitation. “Oh! It worked he’s staring at me with his cool blue eyes of his and I am melting, I can’t stop that stupid, wild and honest grin on my face!”

“Hilda, didn’t you say you were only over exaggerating _a bit_?”

“And then, let’s stare at each other’s eyes for an eternity until one of us actually has the _balls_ to walk to the other and engage in conversation, so futile it hurts to watch! No I am not Claude,” she says with a change of tone, “which is why I wonder how it took you so long to come for help.”

“I don’t need help.”

Her fists curl into balls. Okay, wrong answer again.

“So, I suppose things didn’t really happen that way this morning, right?.” She goes on, ignoring her inner frustration.

He has to admit she’s right on that point. Maybe, maybe a bit of her…restitution hits close to the truth. “Yeah, I…Lysithea had to…” No, that was a lie. He saw Dimitri coming his way, he saw him smile shyly and saying hello so politely and Claude has chosen to ignore it. His blond head was tickling in the corner of his eyes, it always does.

Hilda is right. How come he never realized it before? Without his consent his eyes were always looking for Dimitri in the crowd.

“Let’s say I didn’t reach him like I usually do.”

“Ha! It’s a win for me I knew it! Hilda! Hilda!” she sings and dances in front of him, but the gloomy look on his face soon breaks her cheery mood. “Oh, what is it Claude? Why being so upset? Is it because you were wrong?”

He hates to admit that’s partly true. He hates to admit he’s annoyed by something much more embarrassing and ugly.

“I…dreamed, of him.”

“Oh, like what?” She asks innocently – as if. Hilda is a witch.

“Oh, you know the usual. Him talking to me, worrying about me. Me kissing him and touching his perfectly toned butts.” He chooses to leave the part where Dimitri tried to kill him for himself.

“Woh woh that’s too much information but woh! Is that why you’re avoiding him?”

Claude lets out a long sigh, “Yes, perhaps.” He never thought he would reveal so much today but Goddess it does feel good to unload some of his unharmful secret with someone he could trust.

“Oh.” Hilda says it rather oddly. Claude raises his head to meet her eyes. She comes next to him on her bed, their shoulders touching. “To be honest Claude, I thought you two were already…you know.”

“What? No! He’s…he’s the future King of Faerghus and I’m…I’m…” he can’t tell her what he is, what he dreams to be, “I’m the future leader of the Alliance. This is purely impossible.”

Hilda jerks away from his personal space, eyes like saucer. “Oh my Goddess, by Saint Seiros. You’re in deep.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I mean, here at the Academy you’re still just Claude and he’s still just Dimitri so you could, you know. Do things. Harmless things that will never leave the Monastery walls. But if you’re already planning this far in time then…” she diverts her gaze to look blankly at the wall in front of her. “Then I’ve been fooled. You’re more in deep than what I thought.”

“What were you thinking then?” He asks, genuinely, because she seems to know these things about himself better than he does.

Hilda looks back, “Well, that you were after his ass like everyone else here who has two functioning eyes.” Claude chokes, images of his first dream flash before his eyes – in a sense Hilda is far from being wrong again, and Claude will gladly accept Dimitri is pleasant to look at, that is the less difficult part. “But you do really like him as a person!”

“We’re _friends!_ ”

“Claude, do you remember how many times I accused you of shameless staring, and how many times you objected? How long have you been hiding? How many precious days have you lost?”

_“Why are you staring?”_

_“I’m not staring, I’m spying.”_

It was during their first moon at Garreg Mach. Has it started already?

Claude groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I have no idea of what to do about this.”

He has no escape route; he couldn’t leave the Monastery, or avoid talking to Dimitri for the rest of the year. He still had to maintain a good relationship for the greatest good but honestly he doubts he can behave as stoic and insightful as he wishes, now that he knew about his blossoming…no, he still couldn’t name it. It’s too hard, it’s too soon.

“Why don’t you ask him out?”

Yes, brilliant idea, best way to start a war. There were just so many scenario that could go awfully wrong, his awaited rejection was actually the one where less people would die – only his ego would suffer from the blow.

“I mean it Claude. You know you’re the only one Dimitri reacts to this…nicely? I mean,” she puts her hand on his arms, he tries not to jerk it away, “He’s distant with everyone, no one dares to approach him for a handful of good reasons and here you go, breaking all common senses and hierarchy and you talk to him like he isn’t the future King of Faerghus! I think he likes it. I really think he’s come to like you.”

“And I really think there’s no way he can actually like me.” Not with what happened a couple of nights ago.

“Come on Claude, has some faith in yourself. You’re at least as attractive as he is with your exotic features and green eyes. I’m pretty sure he’s so distracted by the way you stare at him and how you always manage to make your braid swing when you talk to him that he only listens to half the words you say!”

Dimitri? Distracted by- “The way I stare? Please Hilda, enlighten me, am I…this…obvious?”

And Hilda looks so done he regrets to have asked this question on the spot. “You’re a disaster Claude. But at least he seems just as obvious as you are. Which I’m not sure is actually a good thing.”

“Or perhaps you’re seeing things and he doesn’t like me-“

Hilda groans, her eyes to the heavens, “Claude! Of course he likes you! How can he not!? You pinned him against a wall and asked him if he would marry you to march together against the Empire and he blushed!”

“ _I didn’t_ \- wait, how did you see that? Were you spying one me?”

“Did you!?”

“Okay yes perhaps I did! Your turn.”

“I’m not spying on you,” Claude holds her gaze, not quivering, “You just happen to be in my field of vision a lot! You could say I’m a bit like your guardian angel. Look how it turned out.” And she has a fair point. Claude will come out of Hilda’s room as a new man, cleverer and better trained now that he knows the weapons he’ll have to fight with.

“Claude? Aren’t you going to say it?”

What is he going to fight against?

“Say what?”

Hilda leans her temple on the wall behind, watching him closely.

“You have a crush on Dimitri.” Her words slide on him. “It’s alright, it’s not a big deal, I think half of the Monastery has one. You should, how did you say already? Ah yes, fess up.” She laughs, and Claude would probably join her if it weren’t at his expense – to think he said such things to Dimitri for their first mock battle, and now his venom makes a dramatic come back to bite on his own ass. What a fine tactician Claude, most brightest mind of all Fódlan, who succumbs to the first and most common evil of all.

“No, it’s nothing.” He decides. As long as he doesn’t say it. “Thank you for time and advice. Hilda, you truly are my best friend okay? Never doubt that again.”

Her eyes follow his movement as Claude walks to the door, she straightens on her bed. “What are you gonna do then?”

“I told you, absolutely nothing.” He opens her door. “By the way, can this, little private conversation-“

“I’ll be silent as a tomb.”

“Does that mean I’ll need to run away next time Judith comes to visit me?”

She rolls her eyes. “Claude, I told you I was upset because I already knew everything you just told me and you were so annoyingly ignoring it! You understand me now, do you?”

Claude replies with a smile and then escapes, to a place where he can focus on something else entirely, on the wind, the tension against his fingers, the target a couple of metres away, the position of his feet on the ground, the muscles of his arms and torso. He goes to the archery training field outside the Monastery hoping to be alone. He isn’t, but since it’s Shamir he has little concern about her presence.

Yet after a couple of missed throws she speaks.

“You need to leave your emotions outside the battlefield. Or else, you’ll die.”

Sharp and precise, there’s never a futile word coming out of her. “I know.” He replies, and his last arrow finally finds its aim. He’ll need to figure a way out, before it actually becomes problematic.

That’s how he finds himself in front of his desk in the middle of the night, writing a letter to this imaginary Judith that lives in his head, a simple list of pros and cons of a possible _fling_ with His Highness. As he draws the line between the two columns, he can almost hear Hilda’s voice, “Start with the pros! You’ll see it’s not that difficult, just write all the things you _love_ about him.” If only she could be here, he’ll retort it’s just the opposite; making such a list frightens him to no end and as the words form into his head – his honesty, the way he easily puts his trust in others, his irresistible princelike charisma, his eyes, his absolute lack of irony that he usually hates with others, the fact that he could break every bones of his hand with a firm handshake – his squill stills, his hand paralyzed, unable to write them. He ends up writing ‘Dimitri’ with excessive care and goes on the other column.

There he has much more imagination and no problem to put it down on solid paper.

Having such strong bond with another leader – be it from the Empire or the Kingdom – is nothing but a political suicide for both parties. There is no way the third party won’t see it as a threat and knowing it comes from Claude there is no doubt the manoeuvre would only be seen as one of his schemes and nothing more, thus arousing people’s suspicion. The atmosphere would tense, and from tension would come conflicts, violence, and war. The only way this could work would be to have the exact same deep bond with someone from the third party – here, the Empire – meaning someone has to start a fling with Edelgard as well, which perhaps is the most arduous task at hand. Or perhaps they can choose a more feasible target – Ferdinand’s family has a respectable place within the Empire’s hierarchy and he’s sure Hilda or Marianne would-

Seriously, what is he thinking? He can’t sacrifice his own friends for his little, egoist sake! This is not worth the trouble anyway, because – he writes down – Dimitri will never like him back and two, Lorenz would probably have him killed before it gets too serious.

His hand halts on the paper, the ink dries.

_“Beware of the Gloucester boy.”_

He takes another piece of paper and write another later, to the real Judith this time, just a couple of formalities and a question he hopes he hasn’t guessed the answer to already. When it’s done, his mind feels at ease; then he looks back to the pros column, at Dimitri’s name written alone. He can help but think it’s not fair but for some reason Claude refuses to write more. His survival instinct tells him not to.

* * *

“You wouldn’t know where she has gone to, hn?” It’s been two days since Flayn got missing. The whole Monastery is topsy-turvy and Claude doubts Seteth got any sleep since he found out the fate of his dear ‘little sister’. Instead of running in every direction without a plan, Claude remains in his room to think of one and often ends up on the roof to have a better view of the Monastery: it’s incredible how things take another perspective when contemplated from above.

The stray cat that lives there is friendly enough to keep him company, but unfortunately it won’t share its secrets. Perhaps it knows where Flayn has gone – outside the Monastery? Kidnapped? Rotting in the Abyss? Who knows.

Claude takes Caramel in his lap and scratches its head and behind its ears until it purrs. One could say it’s hardly of any help in the mad search everyone seems so serious about, but whatever helps Claude concentrate is a way to find Flayn sooner, at least he hopes. As he stares from his high spot Claude can’t help but smile as everyone work with each other, no matter the house they’re from, no matter their class, no matter their origins…nobles and commoner, Deers and Lions and Eagles, Dedue, Petra and Leonie hands and hands for the sake of saving someone. Even Hilda joins in! A real miracle he should write to her dear older brother.

Yet Claude can see he isn’t the only one not actively searching the Monastery upside down.

Caramel jumps out of his lap and runs way. “Hey!” He doesn’t know why but Claude follows the cat, thinking madly that it could bring him to Flayn, or at least to a place none human would have thought of – there are already almost a hundred at the task, really, if he wants to be of any help he might as well thinking outside the box.

Caramel brings him to the training ground where he’s not surprised to see Felix. He isn’t alone though and Claude can’t help his heart from beating a bit faster when Dimitri appears in his training uniform, the same he had lent Claude a couple of weeks ago – he can tell, because somehow Claude torn the hem and Hilda repaired it with a pink thread. Heat rises to his cheek, hopefully except from Caramel no one will notice.

He really doesn’t want to stay here. He’s made up his mind already, there is no way he will engage into something with Dimitri. He hopes it’s just his hormones messing with his brain or something of the sort that is quite common for a young and health man as he is and that, perhaps, it will soon pass. Though he isn’t quite sure that one day he’ll find the Prince less attractive or endearing. But it will pass, it needs to pass. They will remain friends after all. Claude has to make it work no matter what.

That’s why avoiding him a little bit more after his revelation sounds like the best tactic, running away from problems when things start to smell like trouble has always been something Claude has exceled at. Yet, his curiosity gets the best of him, unexpectedly, as soon as Felix opens his mouth.

“Hello Felix. I see you’re here to train as well.”

“Go away, just looking at your face makes me wanna retch.”

The tone, more than the words themselves, hurl at Dimitri with such animosity, one Claude cannot ignore. His guts twitch, a mix of disgust and curiosity. Felix has always been the one most reclused from the Blue Lions, only engaging conversation when it concerns the matter of swordsmanship, a field Claude unfortunately gives no care. They have barely spoken despite it already being Horsebow moon, and Claude has always wondered where all this animosity against Dimitri takes roots. He is the only one who doesn’t address him as his future King, neither as a human being for what it’s worth – _the boar_ , he calls him like an animal, there must be a reason behind the hate, there is always a reason.

_‘You can’t see them, or you don’t want to?’_

Claude closes his eyes in a vain attempt to force the vivid images of his dream away. In light of his newfound fondness for the heir of the Faerghus Kingdom however, Claude can’t let him be blinded by his beliefs and impression on the Prince. He needs to remain as factual as possible, he needs to learn, and even if it’s at Dimitri’s expense if it can, in the long run, benefit both of their respective territory, he’s sure Dimitri will find enough kindness in him to pardon his slyness.

Dimitri stays composed, as usual, “Heh. With that mouth of yours, you grow more like your brother every day.” There’s even a hint of fondness in his voice when the matter of Felix’s brother is addressed, the one who died protecting Dimitri in Duscur, the one on everyone’s lips – Dimitri, Ingrid, Rodrigue, and strangely never on his little brother’s.

“Shut up. And stop walking around on your hind legs. You’re not fooling me.”

“I cannot fathom why you seem to hate me so.”

It’s the first time Claude sees Dimitri so distraught. Well, the word might be a bit strong but since he can figure it out he’s sad from this distance, it must be something – he wishes he could sneak closer but for some reasons, he’s scared Felix might find out they’re being watched and flee. Dimitri either cares for Felix and their, dare he says, old friendship, or for what people think of him overall. Claude tends for the former.

“Because I know what you really are. A beast, craving blood.”

Claude chokes, Caramel runs away again – a beast craving blood? Isn’t that a bit too harsh!?

“A beast craving blood, am I?” To his horror Dimitri doesn’t even try to object, he just looks at the ground as he repeats Felix’s words, absorbing them, contemplating what they hint at. Claude has a feeling he won’t like much what he’s about to discover but he has chosen his path, the truth must prevail whatever the cost. “I assume you’re speaking of the events two years ago. Last time we met outside the academy?”

“I am. The way you supressed that rebellion…” Oh, yes now he remembers he read about it. Claude connects the dots as Felix goes on, quicker than he would have liked, “It was ruthless slaughter and you loved every second. I remember the way you killed your victims. How you watched them suffer. And your face…that expression. All the world’s evil packed into it. That was our first battle. I remember it vividly.”

“…”

Claude remains as speechless as Dimitri. This, this can’t be right. Dimtiri, smiling Prince in shining armour and teaching orphans how to wield a sword, Dimitri Prince charming always so polite and honest, a heart wide open so easy to read, Dimitri the bloodthirst Prince enjoying killing and torturing his enemies- there’s something wrong, Felix must have had hallucination that is not acceptable.

“Oh, something wrong? Go ahead and deny it, you wild boar.”

Yes, go on Dimitri, deny th-

“I deny nothing Felix.”

And Claude’s heart breaks at how much sorrow Dimitri holds in his voice, how his face morphs into one of pure pain and regret, and how he, as he said so perfectly, denies nothing. Nothing. Not the slaughtering, not the way he enjoyed it, not the torture. Nothing. Claude clings to one the of chimneys not to fall on the ground and interrupt their painful moment, but one that feels necessary, catharsis at best for them but not for him. Knowing Dimitri capable of such things is harrowing and disappointing, mostly because Claude would have never bet on it. He didn’t see it coming when he has spent so much time with him and how could he have missed this? How blind is he by a charming smile and stature and oh so polite Dimitri?

He hates it, hates the idea, hates to be fooled. Hates to be wrong.

“Well then. I suppose the Dimitri I once knew died during that slaughter in Duscur, along with my brother.”

“Perhaps you’re right.”

He hates how it does change very little of how he looks at Dimitri when his voice breaks, crushed by his own misfortune. He knows how to differentiate a pull from his guts and until now they have always been about surviving, yet if his legs want to run at this moment it’s not to go back to his room but to Dimitri, to see how he feels after been shove against a wall unprepared like this, by someone he considered a good friend and deceived once, whose trust had been forever lost.

“Hmph. Hurry up and get out of my sight. I don’t make a habit of talking to beasts.”

This is insane. Felix makes the most sense of them all.

Claude watches Dimitri leaves, his head lowered to the ground barely visible between his broad shoulders and yet, he looks so small and fragile.

He snaps just in time to avoid a lance coming his way, his hand immediately goes to his dagger and then throws the weapon back from where the lance came – the training ground, and more precisely, from Felix’s grip. He barely avoided the attack as well, Claude’s dagger cutting through some of his hair before it falls on the ground. No blood was spent.

Claude thought recklessly; he should have sent the lance back to his owner and now thanks to his imprudence, he’ll have no choice but join Felix to retrieve his most valuable possession. It cannot fall under the wrong hands.

“Are you insane? You could have killed me!”

“Said the one who threw a lance at me.” Claude nonchalantly walks past Felix, perhaps as angry as he was when facing Dimitri, and picks up the dagger. “ _You_ could have killed me.”

“Of course not, I knew you would avoid it.”

“I barely did.”

“Did something troubled you out there? Perhaps something you’ve heard?” Felix’s tongue is abrasive, it’s a miracle this man has friends he can count on – and what a shame, he’s such a fine swordsman.

“I was running after Caramel on the roofs when your voice scared her.” Which, on top of being the truth, destabilizes Felix and his angry frown, because now he knows Claude knows about his secret guilty pleasure and his extensive knowledge of all the cats’ names living in the Monastery.

Which is rather trivial compared to the conversation he just had with Dimitri, but it is perhaps exactly the escape route Claude needs.

“It was difficult not to hear you shouting, even from out there but I guess this is none of my business.” As quickly as he came Claude walks to the exit, hoping to gain his room or anyone who could tell him about how Flayn’s research is going.

“Stay out of our way. It’ll be better for everyone.”

“And what do you think I’m doing exactly?” Claude smiles, sends him a wink before opening the door to the rest of the Monastery, but his lips quickly turn into a thin line once he’s sure no one is lazy enough to send him a glance. He puts back his dagger where it belongs, hidden in his boot, his eyes focused on his steps as he clearly doesn’t want to engage in any sort of conversation, or, worse, to accidentally catch sight of Dimitri sulking in a corner or trying to forget this painful dialogue by being useful, looking for Flayn. He won’t handle it, he won’t handle him so soon after the reveal. He needs times, he needs to be alone.

* * *

The feast held for the Alliance anniversary, despite the ominous atmosphere, isn’t cancelled, which permits those who need a moment to unwind to gather together and eat the delicious meals to their hearts content, and perhaps exchange the few information they possess. Claude adores feats most than anything but between Flayn’s supposed abduction and the image of Dimitri slicing his enemy with his lance, his face _thrilled_ by the blood flooding on his hands – his hands, powerful hands around his throat – he finds it quite difficult to enjoy such trivial events.

But he’s the future leader of the Alliance so it’s not like he can skip this. Lorenz and the nobles, those who await his fall rubbing their hands with glee, will never allow it.

It’s even more painful when Edelgard joins him to pay her best regards and he realizes Dimitri will do as much, of course. In his head he counts. How much more minute of tranquillity remains?

“Claude.” He jumps, but it’s just Hilda bringing him a glass of juice, “You need to smile more. People are thinking you’re upset about Flayn, that you actually have a _heart_.”

“Aw, disgusting.” Claude humours her. He tastes the juice he’s been offered without sparing her a glance. Delicious.

“And Dimitri has been looking for you.”

“Everyone’s been looking for me today.”

“Claude, are you still avoiding him?”

To her inquiry he does not respond, but waves at Ferdinand who’s having a heated conversation with Lorenz, perhaps about the perfect infusion? Who knows – but the subject is suddenly of most importance to Claude.

“I don’t want to be rude, but even Lorenz realized there was something…weird, with you, and Dimitri. I mean, you used to publicly engage in conversation every day and since the beginning of the moon you’ve barely interacted. People are _talking_.”

Claude laughs, hypocritically, “I never knew our new and refreshing friendship was on everyone’s lips.”

“Well, I’m surprised it surprises you Claude. People are curious. There’s not only the Alliance that finds your ascension rather on point, and you’re rather a mysterious fellow, you play with that image so of course people are interested in everything you do. As for Dimitri…do I have to tell you why people would want to know more about him?”

No, she doesn’t, not when Claude can’t barely take his eyes off of him.

“So, the two of you combined – that was the gossip for most of the days, until Flayn got missing.”

“Well, we’re too busy looking for the poor girl to talk to each other like we used to. How does that sound?”

“It will do for a while, but what about after we found Flayn?”

“ _If_ we ever find her.”

Chocked, Hilda gasps. “Claude! I’ve figured you out!” she reaches his side, a hand hiding her lips as she speaks quietly, “You’re the one who kidnapped her, and you’ll only release the poor girl when you’ve figured out what to do with His Highness.”

“Damn, my perfect scheme has been thwarted!” He says, the back of his hand dramatically on his forehead and splitting his glass content on his clothes by doing so. On his side, Hilda’s laughs are quite hysteric, and while she runs to the kitchen to find something proper to clean the mess Claude has caused, and thus leaving him alone and at the mercy of the rest of the room, His Highness and his dazzling hair runs to him with only concern in this eyes.

“Claude, are you alright?”

“Ah, hm, yes,” if he obliterates the fact that he’s covered with juice from head to toes – there’s even some on his braid – and that it’s the first time he looks at Dimitri in the eyes since so many things happen then yes, Claude thinks he’s doing pretty fine. He hasn’t collapsed or had a stroke on the spot, and okay his legs aren’t super supportive at the moment, hopefully he won’t have to run anytime soon, but he is still standing and his voice comes out naturally, as if everything is normal. And, why things wouldn’t be? “I was just careless.”

“It is rather unusual coming from you. Are you sure everything is fine? You lack sleep perhaps?”

Judging by the rings under his eyes, Dimitri does know what he’s talking about. “I reassure you Your Princeliness, Hilda simply distracted me, there is no need for concern.”

“I, hn, I am glad to hear such good news.”

It’s awful how he truly looks relieved to hear this, how genuine his worry is, as if he cares, as if he has such a gentle heart – Claude is drawn to him, craves to be able not to stay alert at all times even in his sleep, if only it could be this simple, if only he wasn’t a future King and Claude was just Claude, if only he hadn’t heard Felix and his venom.

Dimitri takes a tissue out of nowhere and carefully his hand reaches Claude’s braid, drying the juice running on the floor – and ultimately on Claude’s boots. The gesture is nothing but kind, and Claude feels his cheek burned at the thought. Every pair of eyes are on them.

Dimitri, as he realizes a bit too late the boldness of his action with such an audience, colours with pink as well. “Hmh, sorry, that was-“

“Kind, that was kind. Thank you.”

It is truly a mystery, how with such subtle gestures Dimitri could give out so many clues about how he feels; the way he slightly turns his head to the ground, avoiding to meet Claude’s eyes and the shy smile curling his lips, it is just the exact opposite of Claude’s – Dimitri smiles with his eyes first and foremost, it’s disheartening, how they function like polar opposite. Claude wonders for a moment if it is not, in the end, why he’s attracted like a sunflower craving for the sun, which would make any attempt of ignoring Dimitri and his aura or, more hopeful, waiting for his feelings to withdraw, a lost battle. Claude has been doomed the moment he chose to befriend the Prince without knowing, and there was no plan or scheme that could have prevented nor foreseen the catastrophe he was so eager to run into. It has been barely a couple of minute since they have rejoined in the dining hall but even with so little time, the prospect of Dimitri, covered in blood and slaughtering his enemies in a mad fury seems so unrealistic, so far away from the man standing before him.

“Claude, may I speak with you about some private matters?”

Claude nods, they indeed have a lot to talk about.

But before that Claude needs to change.

They meet in the dorms on the ground floor, between the buildings, hidden from anyone that wouldn’t pass by. Everyone is busy with the celebration or searching for Flayn, there is little doubt they would be overhead, yet Claude wonders why so suddenly Dimitri has had a need for intimacy.

“First of all, I wanted to apologize for what I said, the night after we came back from our last mission.”

“What do you want to apologize for?” If anything, Claude should be the one making amends for his misleading behaviour. He’s the one who hurt Dimitri and only got himself hurt because of the consequences.

“My words were perhaps…a bit unkind and uncalled for. I couldn’t help but notice how they seemed to destabilize you. It is true I was a bit upset, no, frustrated by what you said, but by any means it didn’t give me the right to assume so much when knowing so little about what you’ve been through. I should have never questioned the trust you place in me, and for which I am greatly thankful.”

“Oh, and here I thought I was the one being an asshole.” Claude can’t help the sarcasm, after all he’s been through since that night Dimitri’s words were the last of his problems – but of course, Dimitri can’t know about this.

“Ahem, I wouldn’t go that far but…Claude, please respond to me honestly. I have noticed you were avoiding me lately, and if I have done or said something I shouldn’t have, and that my rudeness finds no place for pardon in your heart, can I at least know the reason for your remoteness?”

Claude is tempted to sugarcoat the truth as he often did in the past to make this easier, he is tempted to say exactly what anyone would like to hear – _‘Of course not! I’ve just been busy with, you know, life._ ’ – but it’s just another word for lie, it’s not what Dimitri wants, and not what they need.

What they need is a new solid base, which means, no more lies. Or at least, not when they don’t serve the purpose of his great scheme, or his survival.

“I…can’t tell you.” Which is the truth, there is no way he is going to speak of the dream he’s had, or that he overheard Felix and him talking about the battle two years ago, they aren’t ready for this. “You were right, I was kind of avoiding you. But-“ he adds quickly when Dimitri drops his head and bears the same, sad face he had had with Felix that day, “But it is not because of something you said, or did. Be reassured about this. Moreover, I decided that my little remoteness, as you called it, is over! Well, only if you see no inconvenience with it Your Highness.”

“Ah, Claude,” Dimitri shakes his head and frowns, but it’s a good kind of frown – at least Claude tries to persuade himself it’s a good omen. “How often must I tell you to refer to me by my name? More than anymore here, you’re nothing but an equal to me.”

Claude has to bite on his lips, if only he knew how close to the truth he was by saying stupidity like this. “Kidding, kidding. We’re still friends I guess?”

“You guess?” Dimitri looks up, bemused, “Of course we are. Did you think we…Claude, I am so sorry. I didn’t realize I hurt you so much you’d think I did want our friendship to be over.”

Claude laughs, the tension on his back and shoulders flees with it. The air he breathes is fresher than ever. “Guess I have a history of insecurity in that particular field.” He confesses, because their solid base needs bricks to stand strong, Dimitri needs fragments of truth coming from his past and since Claude knows most of what Dimitri’s childhood has been like, it’s only fair he shares a couple of chosen cracks of his own. “There is a handful of people who does not want me here, but I guess it is no fresh news to you.” He says, a hand on his hip. “I have been the object of nasty attacks ever since I put a foot in Fódlan and unlike you, I don’t have anyone faithful enough to die in my place so, I have to be careful of people I hang out with. I just need one hand to count all my friends. And-”

“If I ever gave the impression that I was not worth of your-“

“Dimitri, please let me finish!” His hand comes to his forehead, Goddess, this whole conversation is giving him the headache of a lifetime. Claude is not used to open up like this, how does Dimitri handle it on a daily basis? “I’ll be frankly honest with you, but this stay between you and me, okay? I don’t think there is a single person I trust with my life here.” Even beyond the border, there are just so few. Perhaps Judith is the only exception, but because she doesn’t know who he is, he’s so certain she’ll change her mind if she does. “I’m suspicious of everybody, that’s the only way to never be surpassed or fooled by anyone. You never get hurt that way. You’re never disappointed if you trust no one to begin with, right?” Speaking his thoughts aloud make them sound even more cynical than usual, but Dimitri listens as calmly as Claude would dream him to do, he’s not judging, only listening. “And to be honest before coming here, I was curious to meet everyone of course but it never occurs to me that I would…like people, as much as I do now.”

Dimitri seems pleased with where Claude is leading his thoughts, and nods silently, a permission to continue.

“The Golden Deers are now precious fellows to me and there is nothing I wouldn’t do for them. And I know I can count of them, but you, you’re different Dimitri. I don’t know why but my hea- _instinct,_ against all odds, pushes me to put my trust in you, and rather entirely and I’m not sure how to feel about this.”

He can see how Dimitri refrains his smile, certainly thinking he mustn’t show how happy Claude’s monologue made him out of politeness. “There is nothing that would bring me more joy than to gain your absolute trust Claude, but I am aware this is not something I can claim easily.” He bows, his hand on his heart, “I will do everything I can to be worth of it, in the meanwhile take your time. This is something of great importance, you’re wise not to rush it.”

Claude lets out a long sigh; he’s exhausted from having spoken so openly for so long, and it is harrowing how he now waits for a random punishment, for saying he might have some trust feelings for another person, for a friend, something he does not deserved.

“In any cases, I am glad we had this conversation. To share some of my thoughts as well, I was beginning to think the way I handled our friendship was wrong.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Claude inquires.

“You are just like a golden deer. You lure me into the woods, but each time I try to approach you, you run away.”

Claude can’t help the chuckle that comes out of his lips. This sounds painfully accurate.

“I know this may sound…rather pathetic from someone of my stature, but I do too have trouble making friends. What I mean is, it is often the others that decide where they stand in relation to me; are they advisors? Guards? Old friends turned into my knights? Whatever I say I have no word on the matter, even Dedue refuses to treat me the way I would want him to.” He says, hint of sadness easily detectable, he isn’t trying to hide any of it. “But with you I feel like the situation is reversed, I am the one deciding where to stand around you, and you cause me most difficulties. I never know if I’m overstepping the boundaries you’ve settled or if I’m too far away to arouse your attention.”

“Ha, there’s no need to worry about that Dimitri,” oh no, there isn’t, if only he knew. “You’re doing great so far.”

“Good,” Goddess, his smile, “Very good indeed.”

“If you keep with the good job,” he leans forward, he can feel Dimitri’s breath on his cheek, “Perhaps I will let you touch my woods, who knows?”

Dimitri frowns. “Your woods?”

“Ehm, you know, deer’s horns?”

“Ah, antlers you mean.”

“Oh,” and here goes a good pun into the abyss, what a shame the innuendo doesn’t work like in Almyrian. “Yeah, antlers.” A shame Dimitri didn’t catch it, but in the end Claude isn’t even surprised nor annoyed. It’s part of his charm.

“That would be my pleasure Claude.”

“Yeah, mine too.” He has no idea.

They spend the rest of their afternoon discussing about Flayn and her possible whereabouts. A couple of suspicious candidates living in the Monastery arise, to which they both promise to investigate on their own and come back before the end of the moon with as much information as possible and, with luck, a culprit to arrest.

* * *

“Ah, this is not good!” Claude walks back and forth in their classroom as Hilda watches him helplessly. Only one day left before the end of the moon and still no news about Flayn, and even if it’s not the end of the world Claude can’t help but have a bad feeling about this. How long could she endure? Is she even alive? Is she suffering?

Even Hilda is on edge, she’s biting on her nails.

Someone runs to them, Ignaz – why he is running? “Claude! Hilda! Something happened!”

He was patrolling with Ingrid when they heard a cry just in front of Jeritza’s room.

“Arf, Jerizta, I could never like him.” Hilda says, “He looks way too creepy.”

“He was on Teach’s list of suspect,” Claude reflects, remembering what the information Dimitri shared with him last night. “Let’s go. Hilda, Ignaz, I’ll let you gather the others.”

Claude rushes to the Knight’s Hall when he stops at the sight of Hanneman and Dimitri holding an unconscious Manuella. The old man looked exhausted, they make a pause.

“Ah Claude! Right on time.” Hanneman puts her colleague’s feet down and straightens his back, which cracks – ouch, better never get old. “Take my place, to the infirmary!”

Claude barely has time to lock eyes with Dimitri, silently demanding a short explanation when he’s been yelled at, “Quickly! We have very little time to act! I’m going to warn Lady Rhea.”

And with that, he disappears.

Claude’s eyes look from the Hall to Dimitri, who is a mixed of stunned and concerned. “She’s…more heavy than she lets it appears.”

Claude bursts out of laughing. “It gives me back memories of when we took back Linhardt to his room.”

“There is no time for idle chit chat Claude,” his voice is firm and authoritarian, the one of a true leader even Claude won’t want to disobey – he takes her feet and, oh my, Dimitri is right. “Let’s go to the infirmary.”

“Would you tell me what happened?”

Dimitri doesn’t know much; Ingrid did as Ignaz and rushed to Teach to warn them about the cry and when they arrived, they found Manuella unconscious on the floor. Dimitri immediately took her with Hanneman and that was it.

They dispose of Manuella’s body on the first bed they find, the nurses rushing to her side with tears in the corner of their eyes. She’s been stabbed pretty badly, blood has tainted her while coat. Would Claude had seen it sooner he would have never joked on their way to the infirmary.

They anxiously wait until a nurse comes out, telling them her life is not in danger anymore thanks to their prompt saving. They both let out a breath.

“I’ll go back, the Professor must be investigating on Jeritza’s whereabouts, otherwise they would have checked on Manuella already.”

“Right, I’ll wait here to make sure they don’t need anything.”

“Thank you Claude, you were a great help.” He bows as he departs, running.

“Don’t forget to tell me what happened!” Claude shouts, but receives no reply. He has little worry though, he’s pretty sure Dimitri will come to him first thing first.

Which he does, in fact, not.

Claude is stubbornly refusing to sleep even when the moon is high in the night sky, refusing to climb on the roof to witness such beauty. It is not chilly yet but soon Wyvern Moon would come along with a drop in temperature, especially at night. But no. Claude still thinks – his heart _hopes_ , but he hates the word tonight – Dimitri will come to him to make his report. They have renewed their vow of friendship after all, as cheesy as it sounds, and Claude told him he trusted him when he trusted no one – is this his punishment? The moon he unveils some of his ugliest truths Dimitri tramples on his expectations.

He sits restless on his bed. The book he reads is as unappealing as possible, he’s spent twenty minutes on the same page and has absorbed nothing of its content. His lids are heavy. He yawns one time too many and decided it’s time. Claude bites back his pride – because in the end, it is what keeps him awake, that and something a little unpleasant just under his breastbone that rubs against the cartilages – and blows on the couple of candles that permit him to pursue his passionate reading. He curls under his blanket, places his dagger under his pillow and keeps the hand there a second.

There’s a knock on his door.

Or at least he thinks, he’s so tired it could have all been a dream – he grips his dagger tighter when a second one come-

“Claude?” A voice whispering his name, “Are you asleep already?”

Suddenly it doesn’t hurt so much, and worse, Claude feels bad for doubting him, doubting them.

Dimitri is still wearing his uniform when Claude opens him the door; he looks stunning. “Ah, I knew you would still be up. I often see the light under your door when I come back late from the library.”

“The library?” He would have bet on other places, the Cathedral and the training ground for example, but he’ll ask about this later.

“This is of no importance. Are you dressed enough to go for a walk? It would be better to have a chat.” Dimitri still whispers.

It turns out he’s not but, “Wait a minute.” Claude is full of resources.

So yes he is possibly underdressed and perhaps it’s a bit cold but here they are, walking around the Monastery to the stairs leading to the graveyards – what an odd choice, on top of being at the exact opposite of where they sleep, which means more time freezing for poor summer boy Claude. They could at least have some warm tea.

Dimitri talks, a lot, and tells him every details he’s been told by Teach with a beaming smile, Claude has never seen his this…happy. Is it because they saved Flayn? The prospect of new enemies, the Death Night and the Flame Emperor is not something they should cheer on, even though it is easier to fight an enemy who has a name. No, Dimitri will never express happiness for something that would only cause pain and trouble in the near future, it has to be something else.

“Claude? Are you paying attention?”

“Hm? Yes, of course,” what did he swear again? No more lie. “Well, I have to admit you lost me when you start to enumerate all the dishes Teach ate on their own.”

“But if only you had seen them! They look so happy.”

“Is that why you’re such in a good mood yourself?”

Dimitri sort of freezes, his gaze lost in the distance as if he hasn’t thought of it, at least not with this angle. “Am I?” he asks.

“Seriously? You’re beaming! You’re even more radiant than usual!” Is this so easy to miss such a change in behaviour when one is blinded by joy and admiration? There’s no wonder how Hilda saw right through his game, if he ever was just as obvious as Dimitri is right now, he’s lucky no one else of importance has noticed the depth of his curiosity for the other leader.

As Dimitri blushes and looks at his feet, Claude wonders if he ever felt them, his eyes on him, the increasing gazes Claude gave him, the blooming admiration, or if he was busy looking elsewhere.

“It is…the Professor is rarely so expressive. They don’t smile or laugh, or cry at all. It’s part of their mystery, part of their…charm, I dare say. But I’m sorry, I got carried away. This is not what I dragged you out of bed for, but somehow it feels good to talk about it with a friend.”

Claude returns his smile with something a bit bitter in his mouth. Dimitri truly is stunning when he smiles like that, but those are like Claude’s true smile, they are rare, and precious, and the only thing Claude will remember of their night excursion it that they were not for him.

And he knows this is stupid, that it’s none of his business, that he’s already decided their fate – they are friends, they will remain friends, end point – but still, it hurts. And when it hurts, Claude always finds the perfect escape route.

“It’s getting a bit chilly.” He rubs his hands against each other. Dimitri looks at him with something a bit sceptical on his feature. He must be accustomed to such weather. “Where I come from it’s never this cold before winter.”

“Oh, let’s go back then.”

They take their time; to be honest Claude doesn’t mind the cold, and despite the jealousy he wants to stay a little more with Dimitri, as long as he’ll permit it.

“How are they, by the way? During classes, and even during missions?”

“Well, you will have an opportunity to see it for yourself next moon.”

“Oh right, the battle of the Deer, Eagle and Lion.” The mock battle between the three houses will take place soon. He can’t wait to see how strong everyone has gotten, and gauge every possible future enemies. “I look forward to it. You know, I was a bit disappointed when Teach didn’t choose our house.” He admits.

“Is that so? I’d like to say I’m sorry, but this was a choice I do not regret.”

“Ah, and yet I was being so charming and mysterious,” Claude whines, which makes Dimitri laugh – at least not everything is lost. “But I lost only to better than I. You’re quite charming yourself.”

“There’s no need for unnecessary praising Claude, for you do not need to flatter me; we’re friends now, remember?”

They reach his room. Now that he thinks about it, there is no doubt the whole Kingdom must be kissing Dimitri’s boots, if not worshipping the ground he walks on. He must have heard all sort of praises, most of which were probably empty, greedy. Does he have enough of this? Or does he see praises as a way to get into his good paper?

“I’m sorry to disappoint you, but as a friend I have the right to compliment you as much as I like. And you can do the same as well by the way.” He winks, his door is opened now and the sight of his bed has never been so rewarding. Claude can barely stand on his legs. “Think about it, will you?”

Dimitri’s arms fall on his side, he looks way younger with the moonlight painting shadows on his features. “You’re…really something else, aren’t you Claude?”

More than the words he says, it’s the way he spoke them, his head inclined to the side, a shy smile on his lips and something gentle, almost tender in his eyes, that sweeps Claude out of his feet. The sight doesn’t leave him sleep at peace until the early morning. When he thinks about it alone in bed, his heart beats faster, his body is warm with the ugly feeling of hope, the worst of all, when he knows he’s fighting over a lost cause – and he repeats those words in his head, endlessly, until they will print into his very core.

Dimitri is indeed charming but he’s also absolutely out of reach.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Cam for the help :) you're an angel.  
> Next chapter in two weeks if everything goes smoothly.  
> Also, next chapter will be rated E (oopsie)


	9. Wyvern Moon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude, despite Hilda’s yelling at him as she kicks down Ferdinand from his horse without restrain, flies to him. “Hey! Your Royalness!” it is silly to catch his attention like this, because Claude has it already, entirely, “If you promise to let me have the prize, I’ll let you take the honour of victory. Do we have a deal?”
> 
> The eventuality of such a scheme is miles away from everything Dimitri believes in, and they both know it. “Enough of your foolishness! I- Wait a moment.” Oh, has he been discovered already? “You are trying to anger me, is that it?”
> 
> “Saw right through me, did you?” That was to be expected after all, haven’t they passed a lot of their free time, if not most, together during the moon? “Well, if there’s no deal, I’ll just have to win this thing fair and square!”
> 
> “I will happily face you here and now.” Dimitri says, with such a daring smile – he looks happy, he looks thrilled, and even if Claude isn’t as eager to fight against his lance, his excitement makes him happy too. “Do not hold back, Claude!”
> 
> Of course he won’t, he cannot do that, not to him, his friend, Dimitri will never forgive him if he doesn’t give his all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter a lot of things change :  
> 1/ The fic is now Rated E (it's a small E but a E nontheless)  
> 2/ The chapters never seem to end from there.  
> 3/ The plot vanishes and dimiclaude agenda takes its place (which explains why the chapters get sooo looong)
> 
> It is still slow burn tho! and it's so slow...I hope you all like to suffer cause there's still a couple of 10ks before it ends!
> 
> Also I took some liberty with canon for the fight, I hope you'll excuse me. (I am utterly not sorry tho)

* * *

#### Wyvern Moon

.

* * *

They are in his room sharing his bed, both reading a book of quite different interests. Claude is deep into a crestomancy one Linhardt recommended to him, and Hilda, well, she’s reading one of his romantic novels he found in the marketplace. Time has stopped for a couple of days since they rescued Flayn and Manuella, the whole Monastery’s organisation needs a rethink and quick, with the Black Eagles having no teacher on the moon before the battle of the Eagle and Lion. In that prospect, only a few of them seemed to mind the absence of their professor, but they do all wish for her prompt recovery.

There’s a soft knock on his door that does no justice to the gravity of the incoming situation. Claude opens the door to Byleth, inexpressive as ever but behind their severe look Claude might be inclined to believe they are…annoyed, at him, for some reason.

His mind directly goes to Dimitri, because after all Byleth is his teacher but this seems not to be the matter at hand, for Byleth has in their hands something – a tiny object – Claude thought was lost forever and, considering the person holding it at the present time, would have liked it to remain that way.

“Oh, hello Teach.” The surprise on his face betrays his recognition of the tiny object, his eyes directly shift to the vial to Byleth in utter panic.

“Is that yours?” They say. At this point there is no denying possible.

“Yes it is, thanks! How did you know it was mine?”

“Dimitri told me you have unconventional hobbies, and that you probably drugged Linhardt… _once_.” The words are spoken as if slightly doubted, as if there were more victims of Claude’s concoctions.

While he takes the vial in his hand, Byleth takes that opportunity to enter his room and search quickly around his desk and personal belongings. “Hey!” Do they even have the right to do that!? “I mean, yes please Teach, come in, my pleasure.”

And when their hands threaten to find the secret box where he hides all his ongoing unconventional works, Claude holds his breath, but surprisingly the box is empty.

“What are you looking for, professor?” Hilda asks, innocently, and she winks at Claude. She got his back.

Byleth leaves the room shortly after that, wishing them good luck in the battle at the end of the moon. He turns to Hilda. “Where did you put them?”

“Oh, you know,” she overlooks the rest of his mess on his desk, there’s a couple of books, unfinished letters, tea and sugar. “I scattered them here and there.”

“You wasted them?!”

“Come on Claude, we all know your little experiments aren’t… how shall I say? Ah, yes. Benevolent.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “You’ll pay for this Hilda Goneril.”

“What? I just saved your life! Did you really poison Linhardt? Why?” She asks immediately after, knowing the answer already.

“It was… a long time ago! To, you know, get some alone quality time with my favourite Royalty.”

“Ah. Dimitri.” Hilda says solemnly. “He also betrayed you. Told the professor about your dirty secret. How are you taking it? Not too depressed yet?”

“No.” Well, perhaps Claude still has a bit of a heartache after their conversation the other night, under the stars, where he watched the way Dimitri smiled thinking of someone else’s happiness – his candid, ultimately sincere smile was as much a reward as a torture for his heart, being the symptoms of feelings he would have wished to be of his doing. “But, Hilda, can you do something for me?”

“I’m thinking _you_ should be the one doing me a favour right now, but since I’m your _best_ friend and like you _immensely_ ,” oh sure one day she’ll make him pay for this, “I shall… listen to your inquiry. What do you need Claude?”

Claude counts to three in his head, perhaps already feeling he is only digging his own grave, even if his moral tells him it’s only for the greater good. “The thing you used on me. You know, observing and guessing all the feelings I had before I was even aware of them?”

“Oh, Claude! I am so proud of you, you finally acknowledged your crush,” she rubs fake tears at the corner of her eyes. “What of my magical powers?”

“Could you do the same for Dimitri?”

Hilda frowns, “Well, I’m not sure this will work as well as with you since we’re barely joined to the hip as you and I can be, but I guess I could give it a try. Each time you talk to Dimitri I’ll study his face and- “

Claude shakes his head. “No, I’m not looking at his reaction about _me_.” He admits, and it hurts.

“Oh my,” even to her standards the news is shocking. “But who might you be jealous of?”

Jealousy, is this what it is all about? Could Claude be jealous, harbour that sort of feeling when he himself decided that he would not be involved in any kind of love affairs with someone of such importance coming from another territory? Is he a hypocrite, on top of being envious, for something that probably makes Dimitri happy when he has no right to have an opinion on the matter? Who is he to wish to be wrong and for the happiness he saw in his ever-blue eyes to be ephemeral, or to have never happened at all if not from the merit of his own existence? Claude has very few friends, and he has never had the chance to feel anything close to romantic love before, though he might not refer his feelings for the Prince to be of that intensity yet; but there are feelings that demand to be reciprocated, if not in kind, with alike intensity, and Claude could not spare any more time and energy thinking about anyone else the way Dimitri infiltrates his mind.

He wants it to be the same. He wants Dimitri to like him back, he realizes, even if they will never – can never – start anything, he just needs him – someone – to like him back.

It hurts to realize he has never felt so alone when surrounded by so many people that appreciate and value his existence. It hurts because the situation has never been that pretty and he knows it, but in the end if the only person he seeks the attention of turns his eyes away from him the moment someone else enters the room, then it is as if he was truly alone. It hurts to just think Dimitri might like someone else the way Claude likes him, and saying the name costs him even more. Because he knows no scheme or poison will secure him a win against such a fine opponent.

* * *

With the Battle of the Eagle and Lion approaching and Hanneman willingly stepping down from the battlefield due to his complex and utterly uninteresting _history_ with Manuella, it means there is much to learn and much more training to deal with this moon than Hilda could barely stand in a whole year – or so she says, all the time, to everyone that has the demise to ask her something or just to politely say hi. Hanneman is twice as severe and hard working as he has ever been with them and Claude has to say it is far from unpleasant. On the contrary, he is amazed by how far everyone has gone, starting from him of course, and he knows that his classmates had all great potential and did most of the work themselves, but still, knowing how to sharpen one’s mind or to guide the most insecure ones, like Ignaz or Marianne, is a job that most would have failed in and Hanneman didn’t. For that reason only, just because he was able to make Marianne smile about her own accomplishment, Claude will always have a good word for him in his heart for as long as he lives. Claude has an objective in mind, before the end of the moon he wants to pass the advance certificate but doesn’t know yet if he should go for Sniper or Wyvern rider – of course he would prefer the later, but isn’t it going to give out a bit of his origin? Aren’t people going to ask questions if he is the only student applying for this class?

He should talk about it to Hilda and Dimitri.

There is another person ready for the next certification; Lysithea is on fire – well, not literally but her opponents surely are. “Come on! On your horse! I need to train my Dark Spikes!” She says, to Lorenz and Leonie who do not look too eager to join her madden magic practice.

“Lorenz! It’ll help Marianne practice her white magic as well!” Claude shouts out. Which is exactly how the training goes, in the end. Her magic is really effective.

“Lysithea, can you come over here for a moment?” Claude wants to discuss some tactics, but he has spotted a real weakness in their mage prodigy. “You’ll probably be a great weapon against our classmates in the next battle, but you can let yourself be touched, by anyone.” Considering her magic’s range, she will have to one shot each opponent if she wants to stay safe long enough. Hopefully, Claude being her ally in this, he is already figured out a plan. They discuss the matter rather passionately, and Lorenz even joins them to add some very insightful advices thanks to his knowledge of the Black Eagle forces – thanks to a certain Ferdinand Von Aegir, most talkative man in the Monastery. Claude implements their tactics with what he is learned from the Blue Lions, having trained with them quite often, but there’s something the most brilliant scheme cannot win against. It is Teach, of course, but also Dimitri’s inhuman strength. He is certain he could one shot each one of them, even Raphael.

But Claude has an idea, and with that, he has made his decision for his future class.

“By the way, where is Ignaz?” Leonie asks. “I wanted to show him the new technique you taught me.” 

“No idea,” Claude looks around, but even in the far end of the field they chose to train on, Ignaz and his bow are nowhere to be seen.

He eventually finds him outside the Monastery, painting, along with Linhardt taking a nap and Bernadetta, writing. They are all sitting far from each other, as if not enjoying their time together, but still doing it _together_ , which is kind of odd.

“Ignaz!” he shouts, enough to scare Bernie and wake up Linhardt, which was the point. “I found you. Skipping practice again?”

“Oh! Claude! I’m so sorry. I got lost in contemplation…” Claude has to admit, each time he stares at Ignaz’s paintings there’s an improvement, and he was already rather gifted to begin with. His art is purely beautiful. It is such a shame he’s going to dedicate his life to Knighthood. “I will join you as soon as possible, if you’ll be kind enough to let me collect my stuff.”

“Oh, no, please continue.” He says, looking at his painting. “You two aren’t training hm?”

Bernadetta turns around as if Claude never existed and Linhardt only yawns, but he has the decency to reply. “We’re both naturals, we don’t need to.”

“What does Edelgard think about it?”

“I don’t care about what she thinks about it.”

Bernadetta gasps.

“It’s true. Training only makes me tired. When I’m tired I’m not effective. Therefore, I should not train.”

“But you can only get better by training.”

Linhardt eyes him, “Not with the way Manuella makes us train.”

“But she’s wounded right now. Who’s taking care of your training?”

“Edelgard.” He yawns again and lies back on the ground. “And I told her I wouldn’t train, and she let me go.”

Claude wonders how much of this is true, before deciding lying must appear like an unnecessary tiring effort for someone as carefree as Linhardt, who does not care about what people think of him.

“By the way, you should be wiser and not train as well.” He adds, rolling on his side to get into a better position. “There’s no way we can win this year, not against the mysterious mercenary turned into a Professor with the crest of Flames.”

Linhardt probably comes to the right conclusion, but there is no way Claude would surrender without a fight – something Hilda will gladly debate on.

Before the last week of Wyvern Moon everyone has improved beyond Claude’s expectations, and he is not the only one passing his advance certificate – Lysithea becomes a Warlock and Lorenz, as well as Leonie, Paladins. As for Claude, he can be found while the sun sets to where his new ride now resides. He caresses the Wyvern’s snout, its scale harsh, they look nothing like the ones he mounted back home, but they still let him approach as a friend. He knows he’s being watched – how could he not see Dimitri standing at the entrance, just far enough to give him the space he needs – and Claude savours the feeling of being under the Prince’s gaze, of giving him the impression he hasn’t been spotted, and the pleasure of acting just as if he were truly alone, for Dimitri’s presence changes nothing to the image he wants to give of himself to the world, and has sworn there would not a single lie between them since their renewed declaration of friendship. Claude wonders how long he has been there and how long more he intends to remain still, alone, so far from him. He probably does not have anything to tell him, since he would have already reached by now. Is he shy, to come to him just by wanting and not necessity? To seek for Claude’s attention when he is obviously busy, to steal his time, so they can share some together – does he want tea? To go for a walk? Or better, just to see him, a mere satisfaction of the eye?

The Wyvern’s agitation gives away his prompt arrival. Claude tries to calm her – Jasmine, he called her – but in vain, she flies away before Dimitri can have the chance to caress her head.

“Ah, these are difficult creatures. I could never quite find how to be accepted among them – I much prefer horses, or horses prefer me, I cannot say.”

“They aren’t that picky, or scared, they’re just free. When they don’t want to be somewhere they just disappear in the air. But once you’ve tamed them, they are as soft as kittens.”

“They choose who they stand alongside with, I see. A little bit like you, Claude.” Claude can feel himself smile before he can help it. “I can’t decide if you’re more like a deer or a wyvern now.”

“As long as you don’t associate me with those Pegasus.” He says, squinting his eyes, “I hate them. They look cute and calm and they bite your hands and hit you with their hoofs once you’ve turned your back.”

Dimitri laughs quietly. “I’m afraid Ingrid would gladly disagree with you on that matter.”

“Well, there’s a lot of matter Miss Upright and I don’t agree with anyway.” 

“Miss Up- _Claude_! This is not the proper way to refer to a lady!”

Claude wants to ask exactly what, in Ingrid, makes him think of a lady except her long hair, before he remembers Felix also has long hair, which make his hypothesis unfounded.

Thinking about Felix rather unexpectedly makes him reflect on their future battle, and how he will for the second time see Dimitri in action with his lance, the perfect opportunity to study the way he fights and how much he likes it. Even if there won’t be any blood waste, or so he hopes, if Dimitri is really so happy to slaughter enemies with Herculean strength, some of his dark side should show even in a mock battle – competition always gets the best and the worst out of men.

“In any cases, I wanted to offer my congratulation on your success.” Dimitri bows, again, does he really need to be so formal with him all of the people? “I’ve heard you’ve done superbly, Seteth has rarely seen someone as much at ease as you on a wyvern’s back.”

“Well, thank you my friend. But please, can you stop the…” He mimics Dimitri’s bow overdramatically, of course, and Claude can see how he looks a slightly bit mortified. He laughs, but deep inside he kind of regrets already. “Relax! It’s just to say you don’t need to be so formal around me.”

Nevertheless, Dimitri sighs, “I know. I just can’t help myself.”

“One thing we could do,” his body acts on his own, he realizes too late, way too late, his blatant mistake, as he has already advanced one step closer to Dimitri, “Is, just, get into our comfort zone for a start.”

Dimitri almost takes a step back when Claude moves, but manages to remain still, perhaps a bit more tensed – Claude can judge by looking at his shoulders – but undeniably still here and at arm’s reach. Literally.

“That way,” Claude quickly adds to ease the mood, “if you try to bow, you’ll knock me out.”

Dimitri snorts. It’s objectively a little bit ugly, but Claude loves it.

“So, aren’t you going to pass your advanced certificate?” They only have next Sunday before the battle of the Eagle and Lion after all, and Claude knows he is strong enough to pass the test.

“I was going to, but I guess even I am not immune to last minute doubts.” Ah, so like Claude Dimitri must make a difficult choice. “I am debating over Hero or Paladin.”

How odd, Claude would have bet Dimitri was more at ease with a lance. “I see. If you’re looking for advice I’ll say you should go for Paladin.”

“That is what the professor said too.” He says, and their mention this time did not lead to any kind of happy emotions on Dimitri’s face; Claude hates himself to notice something so trivial, but the knowledge warms his heart and pride. “But only because they want me to cover more field.”

“Well, this is clearly a clever strategy since your strength is this destructive. You’re good with the lance, I actually never saw you training with a sword or an axe,” But perhaps it’s because he’s already so talented with them, or because they break too easily, or because they remind him of Felix’s dead brother. “And, to be honest it’s quite something to see you on a horse.”

“Quite something?” Dimitri frowns, and Claude wants to bite his tongue. Okay, he won’t tell any lie but is it a reason to let these kinds of confession slip through his tongue?

“Well, it’s,” escape route, Claude, now, his cheeks are burning with shame, “You really have a Royal presence when you’re on your horse. It’s not something I can explain, it’s in the way you arch your back and hold the saddle.” The more he talks, the deeper he digs his own grave. “You emanate authority.”

And why did he decide to stand so close to him? From there, Dimitri can easily see how embarrassed the whole talk makes him. He is too polite to make a remark – even too polite to notice it seems. “Oh, you think so?” Unphased, as always, maybe even so close he does not see, perhaps he doesn’t look, which would be even worse than the rest. “Thank you Claude. But, I like to stay close to my men, and I do not wield the lance so well on a horse. I feel more comfortable on foot.”

“Then perhaps you should go for what suits you most?” And definitely what will make the fight easier for the Golden Deers? If only things were that simple.

Dimitri seems to consider his proposition and they part shortly after for dinner with their respective house. When night comes, Claude tries not to think too much about Dimitri, or how close they were standing, how well he could see the rare and light freckles on his nose, the different kind of blue of his iris, and his back, or how his back arches when he mounts his horse, the angle it makes, how easy it would be to run his hand there to his bottom and squeezes. He opens his eyes to shove the thought away but it’s not enough. He dreams of them riding on his wyvern, Claude teaches him, their body touching – Dimitri’s back against his chest, his heart beating so fast – and Claude rests his chin on Dimitri’s shoulder, takes his hands to hold the reigns and Dimitri let him do. He let him touch him, let his mouth closing the distance that separates it from his neck and sucks the skin here. Dimitri closes his eyes and leans back, enjoying what Claude’s tongue does to him, he drops the reign but they still fly miles away from any trouble ahead. Claude kisses his jaw, the sensitive portion of skin just below his ear until he hears Dimitri whine. Claude’s head spins, his hands leave the reign for Dimitri’s chest, holding him close, open mouth on his neck until Dimitri turns his head, and Claude can’t help but stare at his dilated pupils and see, in the reflection of himself that appears in Dimitri’s eyes, that his are the same, dark and demanding, unsatisfied with what they’ve got.

He blinks and they are facing on Dimitri’s horse during a battle. His hands are running on his arched back, his tongue already deep in Dimitri’s mouth. They hear people screaming, yelling their names, lances and swords breaking through skin and armours, blood spattered on their feet but they don’t care. Claude don’t care about anything but the way Dimitri plays with his hair and his mouth sucking on his tongue. He’s in blissful agony when underneath his palms Dimitri’s tunic vanishes to reveal soft, warm skin, he moans in Dimitri’s mouth and bites on his lower lip. They’re naked on a horse, their hardness rubbing against each other and when their lips part they’re linked with a mix of their saliva. Dimitri joins their forehead; he’s breathing hard, so is Claude, they sound like animals.

They are animals.

When they kiss again they are in Dimitri’s bed, on the blue blanket and Claude’s on top, dictating the pace they are going – too fast, too slow, he’s tired of waiting, he’s tired of wanting. His hands travel down his sides, Dimitri’s are on his head, they go down on his face, his cheeks, his jaw, his-

Claude wakes up the moment they slide on his throat, ashamed of where his dark thoughts lead him, especially with how uncomfortable he feels down below.

* * *

  
  


It is what Claude would call the calm before the storm. They are to depart for Gronder field the following day and, like usual when there’s such a big event coming ahead, the few preceding days are of none importance, and none would have missed them if they had not happened at all. And yet, they are far from unpleasant, the weather is still clement for late Wyvern moon and so, students use their precious time for anything that hasn’t had a link to the battle. Ignaz paints, Hilda makes jewellery, Raphael is, somehow, busy speaking to birds – Claude won’t judge, everyone has their own secrets – Lorenz is enjoying some tea with Marianne, then with Ferdinand, and probably spends the rest of his day going to the toilet to eliminate all of his hot beverage.

Some of the Blue Lions are still training though. It is with no surprise that Dimitri ended up taking the Paladin certificate, which he passed easily, on Byleth’s advice. They are sparing together as Claude approaches a terrace where their effort could be seen. Edelgard is there already, drinking tea, alone.

“Hello Princess.” They rarely talk, and never on her will, “Where’s Hubert?”

“We’re not joined at the hip, like you and Hilda are – or, dare I say, you and Dimitri.”

“Jealous are we? One word from you- “

“No Claude, there is no need for grovelling.” Still as unaffected by his charms, hn? “As the future Empress I do not seek for your friendship, but I hope these moons spend here will harden the diplomatic bound between our respective territory and will lead us to a bright future.”

“You see me reassured little Princess. You’re so cold to me I thought you were about to declare a war!”

Edelgard humphs, her gaze returning quickly on the professor. Like him, she still has a bitter taste in her mouth that they weren’t chosen.

“How is Manuella?”

He is not invited but Claude feels like talking. Because it’s been a while, and because with Flayn’s adduction they finally have something to talk about where they can meet common understatement. He sits in front of her, sees how her unfinished tea ran cold. How long has she been staring?

“Better, but not good enough to join the battlefield unfortunately.”

“Hanneman will drop out as well. Do you feel confident about the upcoming battle?”

Bold to ask a question he knows the answer already, there’s no way Edelgard will show any sign of weakness. “Of course. Why do you ask?”

Claude only stares at Byleth to show his point. Edelgard joins him, they watch them respond to Dimitri’s assaults perfectly. They both sigh at the same time.

“It is true we can think the professor participating in the mock battle to be unfair, but like you I guess, I am more eager to watch them at work than afraid to lose. Dimitri is lucky to have them by his side.”

“Indeed he is.” Claude concedes, not hiding his jealousy – if they can bind to something, anything, Claude will take it, risk it. “Have you heard of Jeritza by the way?” Edelgard stares at him, curious and annoyed at the same time. “He’s from the Empire, if I’m not mistaken.”

“Oh, you’re right. Caspar’s father and my uncle must be investigating on his whereabouts as we speak.”

“Good to know. I hope they’ll find him. We cannot leave such a menace lurking around the corner.”

“Claude, may I ask for your honest opinion?”

He might not _know_ it, but deep inside Claude has a feeling this might be the most important conversation he’ll ever have in the Monastery, or at least this is what his survival guts tell him. Edelgard is a woman now, the future Empress and outside the Black Eagles she has little interactions – he often sees her talking with Lysithea, but every time Claude asked her why she refused to reply. To have her reaching out must mean something, and something big.

“Of course! Whenever you please.” This is a time to be clever, by trying to say less and imply more, to take out information from Edelgard and the future she wants for the Empire and Fódlan.

“As an outsider, what do you think of the Church of Seiros?”

And to be perfectly honest, he hasn’t seen that one coming.

It is true that, practically all his attention has been drained by the Blue Lions and Dimitri, after everything that happened with the occidental Church, that it has been a while since Claude has spared a glance to the Black Eagles. If he had known Edelgard would inquire those kinds of subject of him, he would have perhaps spent more time with Ferdinand and asked about his views on the subject. Well, Ferdinand isn’t the little Princess best friend and it shows, but it is better than nothing.

He takes his time to think of something to reply because first and foremost he needs to reflect on his own opinion on the matter. What does he truly thing of the Church of Seiros? To him Rhea looks more like a dictator than a benevolent Archbishop. She kills whoever oppose her in the Goddess name without a fair trial, without even listening to their claims and everyone follows her without questioning any of what she does.

“Honestly, I am, in general, rather neutral concerning the matter of Religion.” He starts prudently. But, considering Edelgard asked for his _honest_ opinion, as an _outsider_ , in the middle of Garreg Mach, he kind of has an idea on which side of the balance she stands for. “But I have to admit I am not really fond of this one. What, in my opinion, strikes as the most disturbing fact is the lack of opposition.”

To that, Edelgard silently nods.

“I also find the way the Archbishop handles her affairs quite brutal and self-serving. She sends our classes to clean up behind her mess, basically, and what if she takes those orphans under her care to turn them into soldiers like Cyril?” There is no doubt that, between his homeland and Rhea, Cyril has chosen his fate. “She’ll have a huge and very devoted army at this rate, and no one would be able to ever land a single finger on her before being decapitated without a fair trial.”

“Your words are harsh, but so is the truth.” Edelgard speaks, her voice more assured than before. Claude tries not to smile, but it feels good to know she has seen an ally in him. “The Church has control of everything, in every territory. They are even taking care of the education of every person of importance; look at us, look at all those future leaders gathered here in Garreg Mach, under her care.” What she says is perhaps the worst, for how true it is. “And with how terrible her sentences are against rebels, she is teaching us how to stay quiet and fit the mould. She’s nothing more than a tyrant with a charming smile.”

More than anything, Claude is amazed by the way she very thoughtfully says all this, calm and composed, when the words themselves are full of hate. It is something she must have been thinking for a while, perhaps even before she enters Garreg Mach.

“I hope those rebellions will light flames all over the place and make people realize her true nature, instead of following her blindly.” She goes on, but this is where Claude halts, and takes a few steps back. “It is nice that people rebel against her from time to time.”

“But with those rebellions came deaths and suffering. There is no need to go that far to oppose someone. You should perhaps see how we debate at the Alliance- “

“Believe me Claude, against such a tough opponent you have no other choice but to play all cards you have, especially when you’re aiming for victory. It always comes with a cost.”

And then Claude remains silent, having nothing to add to stitch back the depths that separate their philosophy of life. They both watch Byleth and Dimitri end their practice not to look at each other, Claude more than conscious of the difference between them, wilder than he would have imagined them to be. How far does Edelgard’s hate for the Church go, and what was the start of all this? Hate never comes out of nowhere, but his lips are paralyzed, he can’t say a word, because he fears he now knows how far she is ready to go to get to her goal, victory at any cost, and it seems to involve the annihilation of the Church of Seiros.

This sounds like a declaration of war. Hopefully, Claude isn’t on the receiving end.

“By the way,” Edelgard says as Byleth is now out of sight, “You should play with Hubert. He’s a fantastic chess player.” Oh, chess, he wasn’t sure what she was talking about. “Way better than Ferdinand, or Sylvain, but perhaps not as much as Linhardt when he’s actually willing to play.”

“Does it ever happen?” Claude asks, eager to ease the mood.

“Of course not. Why would he cooperate when he can do whatever he pleases?”

And then he laughs. Edelgard doesn’t.

* * *

Hilda complains as soon as they departed and only shuts up once on the battlefield. Claude has never been in Gronder field before, but he has read everything he could about it, from the numerous tales of the first Battle of the Eagle and Lion, from both Empire and Kingdom authors, to the perfect geography of it, of which kind of earth the ground is made of to adapt to rainy weather. Claude is glad they were given the parcel with the bushes, that will give them more opportunity to hide and wait for the opportune moment to strike and steal victory.

After all, they do not need to prevail on Teach, or Dimitri, or even Edelgard, as long as they beat most of their classmates it doesn’t matter.

Everything is ready. Claude mounts his Wyvern after he repeated his brilliant strategy once more. In the air, he hears Dimitri shouts to his classmates. “The battle of the Eagle and Lion is set to begin at long last. Everyone, show off the result of your dedicated training!” 

“Remember, we’re not just fighting for honour.” He replies, reminding Dimitri as he flies closer enough to be heard, that not everything is about being a perfect knight. “There’s a prize at sake!”

On the other side of the hill, Edelgard is starting to lose patience. “It’s almost time to begin. Steel yourselves, everyone!”

Rolling his eyes for a ridiculously slim audience, Claude flies back to the spot he has been given as the leader of the Golden Deer house, farthest from the front line, a place he has most fondness of. With his agility and range, he has the advantage against most units and it’s without counting his high mobility that permits him to cross half of the battlefield easily, which will give him enough opportunity to finish off some of his dear classmates before someone else from another house does, and spy on them as they fight, unaware of his presence. Claude has always had a great sight; he plans to make great use of it today.

“You all should know… I am not about to go easy on you today.” Dimitri speaks, a threat for his enemies, so effective to assemble his men behind his Royal back.

Claude feels obliged to add something, he can’t leave all the light to the Prince after all. “As long as we can pull off a win, doesn’t matter how.” He feels quite inspired, but Hilda’s rather inelegant throat clearing proves him otherwise. “What?”

“That was… not really princely like, you know.”

“Are you disappointed my dear? I am indeed not a Prince. But go on, you can always change side and stab me in the back to please His Royalness.”

“Oh, _forget it!”_ she pesters.

“Our victory must be absolute, no matter what it may take.”

Edelgard’s words put him immediately uneasy as they echo with their previous conversation. Her voice is still the sweet one they all know, the meaning remains as serious as she has always been and, if his instincts are correct, her ambition is purely insane. It is perhaps time to forget a second Dimitri and all the things he makes him feel, without his consent, and focus more on what Edelgard and her Eagles have under their sleeves.

Seteth announces the beginning of the battle. The time has come. After half a year of training and living under the same roof, the students are about to face each other in battle.

As he expects Dimitri rushes into battle and engages against the Black Eagle, a result of his lasting fixation on Edelgard perhaps, or, a collateral damage of their friendship, even if knowing him Claude would rather incline for the first option. Dimitri isn’t a man to spare a friend in a mock battle, but rather to fight him with all his might and honour, which is a scenario Claude doesn’t really look forward to but he can’t help but feel its non-happening would be the most critical wound Dimitri could inflict him. So be it, if he wants to fight Edelgard first he can, Claude sees no objection – he could be saving the best for last – since it will give them a clear advantage. He’ll just have to fly above them, and as he would study the Black Eagles techniques his eyes could also keep an eye on Dimitri, his strength, and his thrill of battle.

To his horror, if most of the Deers have understood his motive – Hilda, always looking for the least conflict, is running behind the Black Eagles rushing on the Blue Lions – Lorenz charges, _alone_ , on the bastion Bernadetta defends on her own, thus exposing him and Claude’s scheme to their demise. From there, catastrophe and deception for the mastermind Claude thought he was comes thick and fast, as the most discreet of the Blue Lions have taken another route to their base – Annette, Dedue, Ashe – and parted from Dimitri and Teach to attack them. The Blue Lions are fighting both sides at a time, something none would have anticipated, thus disarming Claude and his yet brilliant scheme. 

Everything seems to follow a simple plan, one of honour, one of fair fight. Everything Claude despites.

He is not blind, there is no way they can win with this configuration. The only thing to do is to limit the damages and learn everything he can and came here for in the first place, and why not engage into some fair fight when he’s practically sure he can overpower his enemy – Ingrid, on her Pegasus, made a perfect first victim. Of course, the rest of their group focus on him then, to have revenge on their fallen friend – Sylvain rushes quicker than he thought, but with the help of Hilda distracting him and Lysithea’s Dark Spike, he’s out as well. He gets rid of Linhardt rather easily as well, and Caspar falls into the trap he has set for him too, and nothing seems so bad until Dimitri arrives on his horse and neutralizes his nearest allies as if they were made of straw and not flesh and bones.

He’s a natural, Claude will gladly give him that; walking on the battlefield seems as instinctive for him as Claude thinking of his schemes at all time. His placements are always clever and well thought, never putting him at risk of a blow he cannot recover from, his defence is solid and he knows it, and there’s no way Claude can win against such a superb opponent without a stroke of luck.

And Claude likes to think that fortune always favours the brave.

He knows their confrontation is only a matter of time because of how Dimitri moves and how he looks up to him from time to time, how his hand grips on his lance always restlessly. He wants this. He wants to fight against him. Claude feels his blood boiling inside his veins, of fear, anticipation but pride and exhilaration as well. It is nothing like in the training ground. If someone as clever as Claude would want to know him he’ll certainly ask for a chess play, or talk about political matters to have a grasp of his mind but Dimitri is of another calibre, he is a man whose emotions are enhanced in combat and now, Claude painfully witness how true it is, and how true Felix’s words might be. He is under the impression that, the moment he’ll fight against Dimitri and receive one of his blows he’ll have known him better than ever before.

The prospect is irresistible. Claude, despite Hilda’s yelling at him as she kicks down Ferdinand from his horse without restrain, flies to him. “Hey! Your Royalness!” it is silly to catch his attention like this, because Claude has it already, entirely, “If you promise to let me have the prize, I’ll let you take the honour of victory. Do we have a deal?”

The eventuality of such a scheme is miles away from everything Dimitri believes in, and they both know it. “Enough of your foolishness! I- Wait a moment.” Oh, has he been discovered already? “You are trying to anger me, is that it?”

“Saw right through me, did you?” That was to be expected after all, haven’t they passed a lot of their free time, if not most, together during the moon? “Well, if there’s no deal, I’ll just have to win this thing fair and square!”

“I will happily face you here and now.” Dimitri says, with such a daring smile – he looks happy, he looks thrilled, and even if Claude isn’t as eager to fight against his lance, his excitement makes him happy too. “Do not hold back, Claude!”

Of course he won’t, he cannot do that, not to him, his friend, Dimitri will never forgive him if he doesn’t give his all.

He attacks first, takes an arrow before Dimitri can look for his javelin. He hits but it is not enough of course, Dimitri is way tougher than that – and this is when the real fight begins. Claude barely has time to breathe when the weapon flies towards him but he is ready, he has observed the way Dimitri holds his lance and has anticipated the angle, he can – he will – avoid it, because there is no other way, he cannot defeat him if Dimitri manages to hit him, even just once. 

And, as promised, Claude does avoid the first blow. He just never expected a second one to come so quickly before he could take his second arrow. This one, he barely dodges, but at an inestimable cost – he loses his balance and his grip on the saddle, and somehow, he has the time to think he’s about to fall almost ten times before it actually occurs. His pelvis slides on his side, his leg follows and his back hits nothing but the cold Wyvern Moon air. Of course he isn’t that high, he needed to get closer to the ground to have a chance to hit Dimitri after all but still, the ground never seems to arrive quickly enough, and every second that passes feels like ten or more, as Claude’s body suffers from the ineluctable force of gravity. The good part is – because Claude is an optimistic at heart – he has time to think of the best way to fall, on his legs, arms or back – never on the back, he’ll get breathless and vulnerable, and Dimitri is sure looking his way and prepares for the impact as well – and it’s with a rare grace, something he is quite proud to have found back at the most appropriate moment that he meets his fate – the ground – with a forward roll that barely hurts his arms and upper back, before going back on his feet as if nothing that could have put him a bad position had happened at all.

Dimitri is stunned for a moment; Claude can’t decide if it’s from the fall or the way he landed, because he fears he sees something that looks like worry on his face and it’s the last thing he needs right now. 

They recover almost at the same time from this short moment of confusion, Claude draws another arrow but Dimitri surges on him, quicker than he anticipates and, unexpectedly, on foot. Claude assumes for a moment it’s his chivalrous trait, that he must be thinking ‘if he’s dismounted then I shall be too’ until he remembers Dimitri told him he was better with his lance when his feet were on the ground. Great, really great, he really needs to get rid of it then.

Before the impact Claude jumps backwards, avoiding another fatal blow from a few centimetres. His axe in hand, he retaliates for Dimitri’s attack, but his strength is not enough to even scratch his armour, and they both know it. This is a lost battle now that Dimitri is at arm’s reach – or rather now that he’s at arm’s reach of Dimitri. And as impossible as it sounds Claude still has hope, there’s always hope as long as there’s a scheme to be thought, no matter how crazy it might sound.

Claude, with his speed and agility as his best weapons against this kind of enemy, attacks forward, or at least pretends to – an attack that is too easy not to be blocked, but this is exactly what it wants. Dimitri blocks indeed with his lance, and at the last minute, Claude angles his axe so that it catches the lance’s stick, and with a good pull and the effect of surprise, Claude manages to get the lance off of Dimitri’s hold and throws both of their weapon far, far away from where they stand. At this distance it is unthinkable to draw his bow again, not when Dimitri can literally jump on him and put him on the ground.

The match is rewritten. They have no weapon they can use, but their fists and spirits against each other. 

Claude kicks his legs, their armour clash, he’s not strong enough to make him fall on the first try but now he’s certain he’s definitely more agile in close combat. He attacks again while Dimitri recovers from his loss of balance and aims for his torso, which finishes the job; Dimitri falls on his back and Claude freezes, because, what do to now? Were they in a real battle Claude would have taken his dagger and climbs on him, the blade under his throat and blood would have sprung, but this is a mock battle and Dimitri will soon recover and get back on his feet if Claude doesn’t take the initiative, but he cannot think of one that suits him on the spot.

He hates to think about it, but after all the nurses that came along will heal any dirty wounds, would they? It doesn’t matter if Claude and his bare fist damage Dimitri’s beautiful traits, it’s not his fault it’s the only part of his body that is not covered with metal, even if he’s clearly reluctant at the idea.

Before he can have any second thoughts his hips straddle on Dimitri’s – he really tries hard not to think about it – and he raises his fist, ready to strike; Dimitri eyes him, pupils blown wide.

Claude’s fist hits Dimitri’s gantlet a few centimetres from his face. Their arms are shaking. “Who would have thought you were that kind of man, Claude? Going for the face, really?”

“Could have been worse. I could have stepped on your crotch.” 

To his provocation Dimitri retorts with a headbutt, which probably broke Claude’s nose. Blood comes out of it and from his mouth, he spits on the ground. “You’re not any better.” He says as he gets back on his feet, forced by the violence of the hit he’s just suffered from – he feels like all of Dimitri’s lances that went through his exasperation as he broke anything at arm’s reach into two, at time, he feels like his head is going to explode. He’s dizzy, but it’s not over. Dimitri, still on his back, kicks his legs and makes Claude fall on the ground, he crawls on him but Claude is clever, he entwines their legs together and rolls on top before Dimitri can overpower him and punches his face hard on his cheekbone, breaking his fifth finger probably as he did so. There’s a drop of blood that runs from his mouth, and never has Claude feel so proud, and good, despite the ache, despite his vision going slightly blurry – he can’t tell if there’s so much chaos around them that they’re surrounded by smoke and dust, separated from the rest of their classmates or if it’s just in his head. He doesn’t know if he does see well, or if his brain is damaged enough to play with his heart, as Dimitri eyes him so intensely, so entirely as if Claude was, at this very moment, the only thing that matters in the world. Claude, as he stares down as his eyes, blue but so much darker than they usually are, would even dare to hope there’s something close to lust inside, an ugly want that comes from his guts, reanimates by the adrenaline of their confrontation. He’s never really been in that state of mind before, if it could be called that way; if he sometimes has felt his life was on the line as assassins were running after him he had never gained from their attempt any rewarding feeling, any satisfaction, any intense pleasure as he was feeling now as both he and Dimitri has drawn blood from each other. He wants to fight. He wants the blood, the sweat, the dirt, he wants the attention, he wants the touches, and wants the thrill.

He punches the other cheek and Dimitri replies by punching him too on the lips, cutting the delicate skin on its side. It bleeds abundantly, drops fall on Dimitri’s face, mixing with his own. Claude halts for a second, too long, just a second when he thought he had never witnessed a sight so erotic in his entire life, a second during when Dimitri sits and grasps his wrists and puts him on his back again. They lay on each other, legs tangled, they roll to gain control on the other, they groan, they are breathless and when from the corner of his eyes, Claude understands where Dimitri is leading them – to where his lance fell – Claude’s instinct, despite all the warnings they got before the battle, overtakes him.

His hand goes for his dagger. This mother always told him to go for the neck. It’s what kills the men quicker.

Dimitri takes a solid hold on his wrist and pushes it firmly on the ground above his head. They halt, not quite sure of what happened, Claude horrified by what he almost did.

“Claude.” Dimitri says breathlessly, and Claude is sure he intended it to be louder, angrier; yet his name comes out as a whisper only, for how dumbstruck the unthinkable move stunned him, stunned them both.

And Claude says nothing. He cannot. There is no way he can justify his craziness, even if he could, even if he has his reasons – ones he will never share – how could he possibly explain why, in the middle of a mock battle, he sliced the throat of the future King of Faerghus?

He thinks of Felix, and of his words, and he thinks of Dimitri so young still in the middle of a battle defending his life and his people, and can understand now a bit better how all of this could be true. Dimitri has a hard time catching his breath, still on top of him, drops of sweat and blood fall from his chin on Claude’s armour and neck. His eyes slowly come back to their initial colour, of the blue Almyrian’s sky during Blue Sea Moon Claude adores and he stares. He has calmed down now. He lets go of his dagger, and Dimitri releases his wrist. He has lost.

Yet Dimitri doesn’t move. Claude feels the weight of his body on his, its warmth, he feels his breath on his skin, cooling down the heat when it hits the sweat and he stares. Their faces are so close. His eyes lower to his lips on their own, where they are still traces of dried blood. Claude isn’t sure why his heart beat so fast in his chest anymore.

They hear footsteps, Teach’s footsteps, and a second later the Blue Lions are declared to be the winners. Dimitri eventually gets on his feet and offers Claude his hand. The dagger is quickly hidden from anyone’s view.

Byleth scolds them, of course, as they see their faces. They all have broken bones to repair. They turn away a second to go find the nurses, as slowly the Blue Lions and Golden Deers join their respective leaders.

“Well, Claude, that was…” Dimitri is looking at the ground, his voice having found back its strength. Claude is worried, but not for long, for Dimitri smiles widely, “Amazing. It feels so much different from training, doesn’t it? It was a great experience.”

“Your cheekbones are quite solid.” Claude complains as he shakes his broken fist.

“Ah, hum, sorry about your… nose. That was quite a bolt move I have to admit.” He blushes, at last, his eyes still fixed on the ground. “Still, if you’re willing, I’ll happily renew the experience once again, if our respective professor agree of course, and if we have enough white magi- “

Claude silences him with his mouth on his ear, “I’d very much like that, any time you want, Dimitri.” He murmurs, a firm hand on his arm. He runs his lips on his cheek, slowly, unable to stop, unable to think of anything but where they are leading, the ultimate victory, the untouchable lips – his head feels like jelly, the high of the fight and the warmth of Dimitri’s body turning him crazy – and it’s not until he hears Hilda’s steps followed by others than he realizes what he’s doing, what he’s about to do and stops halfway, and leaves Dimitri’s side as quickly as he has come.

Before Hilda, which jaw has dropped at the sight, can say anything he hears Ingrid and her worries, “Your Highness! You have blood on your face.” Claude can’t help but turn around. Dimitri has some indeed, his fingers are on his cheek where his mouth has been just a moment ago and Claude touches his lower lip, still bleeding from the cut Dimitri made, and their eyes meet for a second too long. Hilda drags him back to reality.

“Come! Before you do something you’ll regret. Are you insane!?” she whispers.

He doesn’t know what passes through Dimitri’s mind, at this very moment, he will never know.

* * *

All their friends got injured during the mock battle. Claude having suffered from mildly minor injuries, must wait to be treated, after he’s been insured nothing irremediable will happen to his perfect nose if taken care of in a couple of hours only. Hilda stays by his side the whole time. The cold air, the lack of adrenaline and the pain, fatally coming to bite him back in the ass, has definitely cooled his mind. He’ll need some time, a couple of good night sleep, to analyse what has just happened. The thrill of fighting, the dagger, the need to feel Dimitri on top of him and bite on his lips until it bleeds.

“Did you two make out?”

Startled, Claude turns to her immediately, “What?”

“I mean. It looked like you just did. When we arrived you know. But, you would have told me, right? If you, did, make out while fighting. It happens.”

“Hilda, my friend. Of course, I would have told you.” He takes her hands in his. “But, no, unfortunately.”

“Oh,” she seems as upset as he was.

The nurse eventually takes care of him and in the blink of an eye, he can feel all the bones on his face just fine, and his nose looks just like before. He turns to Hilda for confirmation, and she makes a weird and horrified face before bursting out of laughing. Claude is not. But everything should be alright.

They get changed and eat; in the middle of the afternoon the whole group is ready to go back to Garreg Mach to finish the day. Teach asked for a reunion of the house leaders before they depart, which is not to please Claude one bit, but it’s part of his responsibilities he cannot withdraw from. As he walks there, a pain gradually awakes on his leg, he rubs his thigh and finds a huge bump that he probably gained from the battle, but when? When he fell? When Dimitri sized him on the ground between his thighs? Ah! He shakes his head; he needs to think of other matter. He’s going nowhere with these thoughts, or at least, each one of them brings him further from his dream.

Dimitri looks fine, pristine, welcomes him with a glance and a polite smile when he joins them, he appears the previous event that occurred between them has left no trace on him. “Well done, Your Princeliness.” He realizes he hasn’t congratulated them yet. “I’m certainly not in any hurry to get on your bad side.”

He’s so glad they aren’t alone, so glad Edelgard talks first. “I assumed you would attack us head-on. I clearly need to rethink my opinion of you. Well done, Dimitri.”

“You both deserve equal praise for a battle well fought. All three houses did extremely well. Don’t you agree professor?”

“They were nothing.” Byleth says, it is certainly a joke but it’s hard to tell with them. The world seems to be turning right, everything slowly goes back to normal.

“It only seemed that way because of the calibre of your command. Even now, we must not allow ourselves to become complacent.” Dimitri, always so prudent, always so modest; he could at least recognize a total victory when he sees one.

All in all, it was a great experience, though Claude is a bit disappointed, but mostly in himself, for his own behaviour and the fact that he hasn’t been able to study the Black Eagles as much as he wanted. “In any case, I hope the day never comes when we have to put this experience to use.”

“I wouldn’t mind. I’ll accept a challenge from either of you at any time.”

Claude feels his blood run cold in his veins, his worry or concern for Dimitri and how he would react to his actions long forgotten by the eventuality of a real fight against Edelgard and the Empire in the near future.

“Heh. I’m kidding, of course!” Claude lets out a breath he’s been holding the whole time. By the Goddess why would she say something like that? Does she want him dead already?

“That is nothing to joke about. The true battle of the Eagle and Lion is best in the past. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they eventually changed the name of this mock battle.”

“I hope so.” Byleth adds, just as Claude has proposed a couple of moons ago, but no one seems to remember – what a shame.

“How admirable, Teach! On that note, I have a proposition.” He’s too much in a mess right now not to have something to enjoy in the evening. “When we get back to Garreg Mach, let’s have a grand feast to break down the walls between our respective houses. And by ‘grand’ feast, I mean a fairly regular feast in the dining hall.”

“You really value that kind of thing, don’t you? Well, I suppose no harm can come from in. Count me in.”

“I have no objection either. And you, Professor?”

They all expectedly want for Byleth’s reply, which does not disappoint. “We’ll celebrate our victory!” They say, with a bright smile, and somehow Claude realizes he has never seen them smile this much before.

“Oh! Well, I’m not sure that’s the point. Uh, Professor? Was that… a joke?” Dimitri seems just as bemused as they all are, if not most, being Teach’s student. “You look so… happy. I love seeing you like this. I suppose that look on your face is just another boon from this glorious day. Perhaps the best one of all.”

And Claude forces a smile as the words hit him harder than any punch, any headbutt, any fall that could possibly hurt him. The way Dimitri stares and smiles back at Teach can do even worse.

The trip back is a pure torture for their worn-out bodies. Every step is a reminder of the bruise he’ll soon be able to see on his thigh, leaving Claude with the regret that he’d have liked Dimitri to mark his body under different circumstances. The only consolation is that Hilda is quiet, too worn out to say anything. Of course, the Golden Deer class isn’t the only one who got out of Gronder field with a couple of bad bruises. Felix rides on Sylvain’s horse while his best friend walks, the reign in hands and Dimitri took Annette with him, she sleeps on his back with a bruise on her forehead. They are tired, but content, for their win was fair and indisputable. As soon as they pass the gate of Garreg Mach they all gather in the dining hall as Claude suggested to enjoy a meal together. After their stomach is eventually full Sylvain, to whoever might still be in high spirit, shouts at his lungs ‘Everyone, in the sauna!’, hopeful to get some girls with him – possibly, very possibly – but instead, none of them joined. It’s just him, Ashe, Dimitri, Caspar, Lorenz, and Claude. Surprised Hilda isn’t with them, she would tell him later that there was no way any girl would get near Sylvain and Lorenz in the sauna, which is something Claude is glad not to have to deal with.

Since he waited for Lorenz to ‘get ready’ – for what, exactly, they are all sweaty, bruised and exhausted – it’s last that they enter the sauna and Sylvain directs them to the hot baths, which he specially reserved for them, and that’s when Claude realizes he‘s way more clothed than their classmates.

“Never thoughts I’ll be overdressed wearing my shorts.”

Sylvain smuggles, the nerve, “Don’t worry dude, we’re all in swimsuits. I saved you a seat.” He winks, because of course, guess who sits next to Sylvain and slides to the side?

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd and his huge, muscular chest.

How could he hide something so wild under his clothes? There’s enough place for two of his head, and those pectorals look divine, deliciously comfortable for someone so exhausted as Claude Von Riegan, perhaps not as well build but not ashamed of his body – and he knows now why Lorenz took so much time, he shaves his torso. Damn those black clothes! They tricked Claude again.

In such a difficult moment for him, where he has to act as naturally as possible next to his half naked crush that is, on top of everything, even more desirable than he was before, the all in front of an unwanted audience, Claude wonders how he’s going to keep his dignity without avoiding staring at Dimitri for an eternity when he has been this close to kiss him in front of the entire Monastery just a couple of hours ago. The best way would be to take control of the conversation, which would force him to look at other people in the eyes, in fear of being rude if his stare lingers for too long on his present neighbour. At least, Claude can, perhaps, avoids his chest. It sounds like a safe plan.

Instead, Claude lies back and reclines his head, inhales, and sighs heavily. This has been a long day.

“Claude, are you alright?”

Claude slowly opens his eyes; he doesn’t want to turn his head. “Yes, don’t worry Your Highness.” But he does anyway, and winks, and the tip of his braid is damp and he notices how Dimitri stares at it. “Your punches were only fatal for my pride, but I assure you I will recover fully.”

It was a mistake. It is no news for Claude, of course he knew it before succumbing to his desire, but even the most innocent look Dimitri gives him revives in him all the dirty thoughts and dreams he had of him in this simple attire; if he leaves his mind wander enough he can see his hands travel on Dimitri’s body, can feel the smoothness of his skin under his touch, can hear Dimitri’s breathe hitch, and him whine and perhaps if it was just the two of them…

No, please Claude, don’t go there.

It is Sylvain who takes the lead from then, he talks and talks – about, guess what, girls – especially with Lorenz, since Caspar doesn’t care about the matter and Ashe is too shy to have any experience in that kind of field. Yet, all Sylvain’s stories are entertaining, and a real blessing for someone who wants to forget about the half god sitting next to him, sending him a look of concern since he is, undeniably, not behaving like his normal self.

“So, Your Highness, care to tell us your story? About that girl you offer a dagger to?”

Claude’s eyes open wide, alert. Will it always feel like a slap in the face each time a third party mentions someone Dimitri used to like that is not him?

“Sylvain!” Dimitri hushes, embarrassed – the tip of his ears turns pink. “This was… really a long time ago.”

“Yeah, maybe, but I don’t have anything else against you. And since it was so long ago, let bygones be bygones! I won’t charge you of any crimes.”

“But, still,” Dimitri crosses his arms in front of his chest, in front of his heart, as to protect it. Whatever it is, Claude has a feeling it still holds a place in it. He hates how it hurts. “I don’t have much to say. I was still a child at that time, but I do remember how all of you made fun of me for giving her this dagger.”

“Come on! Isn’t it funny? Now, you have to admit,” Sylvain pushes, happy to have an audience, “This was rather silly.”

“Her departure took me by surprise!” Dimitri elaborates, the red reaching his cheeks, “I took… the first object I valued, at the time. Of course, if I had known, it would have been a different matter.”

“And now,” Claude rolls in, mischief in his eyes, “What would you give your crush to court them?”

Dimitri freezes, stunned to be asked such a thing by Claude, his trusted _friend_. “Claude. Not you. It’s…” He leans in, Claude stops breathing. “You betrayed me.” He adds in a whisper.

“You talked to Teach about my experiments _first_.” Claude retorts just as quietly, never looking back at him. He doesn’t have any strength left to.

“So? Care to share your view, Your Highness?” Lorenz asks, not reading the mood at all.

Dimitri eyes Claude severely, something Claude never notices, for he seems rather interested in the water he bathes in – oh, bubbles, how distracting. “Well,” Dimitri finally watches Lorenz as he replies, “Now, I think I would offer something they would need, or that would please them, and not something _I_ find valuable. I would ask their friends what they would like more, and if possible, I think I would try to find something that would make them think of us, or a shared memory.”

“Hum, something sentimental more than something expensive. I didn’t know you were the romantic type Prince Dimitri.”

Somehow Claude missed all that, he missed it because under the water, he has a clear view of Dimitri’s bare hand, and it’s been over six moons now that they met – he still thinks of the door handle he destroyed with those hands – yet, it is the very first time he sees him without his gauntlets. And they are so big. They could fit his entire head with ease. His fingers are long and thick, perfectly balanced for a man, and Claude can see the veins on the back of his hands, tortuous, blue, gross, he can follow them back to his elbow and they trace a map Claude now knows by heart. His eyes quickly come back to his fingers, how he imagines them running on his spine, or how he could very well circle his waist, take him by the hips, or anything he’d like. Claude would oblige.

He remembers also what they say about men with big hands.

“Claude? You seem flustered.” Lorenz’s voice is not enough to bring him back to reality. He’s still completely hypnotised, thanks to fatigue and the fall of endorphins after battle, and perhaps some other chemical substances his brain produces when Dimitri is near him, by the sight of his hand just next to him, and Claude can’t help but stare as if it was the very first one he saw in his entire life.

“Is there something wrong with my hand?”

And the spell breaks with Dimitri’s voice as he takes his hand out of the water. They all look at it, in search of a wound perhaps, but no there’s nothing, nothing to say, it is perfect. Utterly perfect.

“I was just watching your veins.” Claude says.

“Ah.” Dimitri does the same too. Everyone does, Claude wants them to stop. “It is true with the heat they seem bigger than usual. It is very ungraceful.”

Claude thinks of another huge part of his body with ungraceful and blood logged veins; he needs to get out there. “Indeed, it’s ungraceful.” He murmurs, mostly to himself.

It is far from his most elaborate speech, which Dimitri remarks, and as he sends him a worried gaze once more Claude can’t look away even with the most tremendous effort, and he prays whoever would hear that please, Dimitri can never find out only a portion of what runs into his mind. There’s nothing else in his head but dirty thoughts and words and big hands on him and he needs to get out of here.

“Woh! My hands are turning prune.” Sylvain says suddenly very loud, which startled everyone – especially Caspar who has somehow fallen asleep. “Think it’s time we get out.”

Of course, Dimitri offers his hand to help him out. He takes his wrist and pull on his limb; he doesn’t drop it once they’re both out.

“Claude, I know you told me you were fine, but you look nothing like it. Did you… Have I hurt you? I saw you falling, maybe you’ve hit your head?”

Claude is fairly sure he only has two remaining neurons working and they are both busy screaming inside his head ‘Dimitri is touching me! He’s touching my arm! With his bare hand! I can feel his palm on me!’ and no, his hands aren’t smooth at all, they are calloused like his own due to their habits of holding weapons not made for kids like them, but they are warm, and they feel better than any embroilment on his bruises, better than a mother’s goodnight kiss, or any strange alcohol he’s ever tasted.

“Dimitri I’m fine. I’m just, extremely tired, and the heat of the bath was clearly a bad idea. I need to sleep, that’s all. I promise I’ll be all new tomorrow. You did not hurt me, at least, not that bad.”

“But- “

“Hey Your Highness! The professor wants to talk to you.”

Dimitri releases his arm then, turning to the door. Sylvain joins them, back with clothes on. “Oh, is that so?” When Sylvain nods, he turns back to Claude. “I’m sorry, Sylvain will escort you back to your room.”

Sylvain rolls his eyes, “I’m sure he can take of himself well on his own.”

“Please.”

Dimitri exits to the changing room after that, accepting none of Sylvain or Claude protest. Claude sighs, his face in his hands. He feels so hot, he must be burning.

“You okay?” Sylvain inquires.

“Yes. No. Well, I’m better now. Thank you.” He doesn’t know why he talks so much now. It’s Sylvain, not Hilda.

“Well, I’ll walk you back since His Highness so gently asked this of me. I feel a bit responsible for your misadventure though, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know what?”

“Oh. Right. Forget what I said.”

“Forget about what?”

“I have no idea of what you’re talking about Claude.”

Claude hates this little game Sylvain plays with him, but he doesn’t push any further. He can’t align two straight thoughts together; if they were to play chess tonight, he’s sure Sylvain would win easily – even Dimitri would, which says a lot about the disastrous state he’s in.

He doesn’t realize he’s silent the whole time they walk to his room, too lost in his own world, filled with vivid images of Dimitri wearing not enough clothes to be decent. He’ll have to apologize to Sylvain later for being such a bad friend. Now that he knows, more than fantasises about Dimitri’s body – even if he wasn’t that far from the truth, he is nearly as well built as their God of War back in his homeland – there is no way his thoughts won’t travel there, nights and days, there’s no way he won’t imagine what Dimitri hides to everyone’s view under his austere uniform, there’s no way he won’t want to touch him each time they talk – so close, thanks to his most brilliant addition to their healthy friendship – and this is already turning him crazy.

Claude still remembers the first time he saw him. He remembers very clearly the noise his boots made on the floor, a noise that now alone is enough to make his heart beats faster. He remembers how his hair fell from his forehead when he blew the first time and how he couldn’t stare away. He remembers the moment he ran after him when they were attacked in Lemire before meeting Teach, the first time Hilda caught him staring, when he looked down at him for too long the day he proposed to train Mercedes at archery, the first time they played chess, the way he looked happy when he went to his birthday celebration and saw him running to him, how he so easily exposed Claude’s hidden weaknesses without meaning to, without any evil, how he got visibly more comfortable, open, natural with him, as if with Claude, he could simply be Dimitri for a moment, and forget he was the Prince of Faerghus. It’s been six moons since they met, and now Claude realizes he might have liked him the very first seconds of it, but only took notice a couple of weeks ago and since then, everything is moving too fast for his feet to catch up. The ground crumbles, he falls, everything he tries to grasp to reach the surface dissolves under his touch, as if he were gifted with Dimitri’s strength for a moment.

Does he like it, the fall? Does he fear it?

And it is perhaps the worst he finds out about him, at this moment where, sitting on his bed with his back against the wall, his hand goes without any shame in his boxer to caress the ache he neglected for too long; he _loves_ it, the fall is _thrilling,_ it feels like floating, like he no longer exists, his limbs and torso are jelly, his entire being doesn’t count for anything, be it Fódlan or beyond. His head hits the wall behind when the grip on his tip hardens, perhaps a bit too harsh and too soon, but Claude can’t wait, he’s waited enough now he _wants_ , and he’s not ashamed to be aroused, not ashamed to acknowledge what his mind and body seem to enjoy equally – the fall, the fall, the fall with Dimitri. And of course he knows how, the better the fall is, the worst is the landing – he moans, he arches his back – but Claude has proved them all he could handle a couple of them without suffering irreversible damages, if all his falls are provoked by a single man of his choice.

He’s close, so close, to the ground, to the climax. His hand jerks between his spread legs, he whines and calls _his_ name when he comes. Pearls of sweat run on his temples, he’s breathless, it has rarely felt this good before.

He rests his head on the wall again, calming down, his mind utterly and blissfully blank, but as he’s about to suggest he should definitely masturbate more often, for it is a very healthy occupation for everyone old enough to be able to produce an heir - and of any gender - he is reminded that he lives unfortunately not alone, and his most merited afterglow is wasted by a sword, piercing through the wall he lies against a dozen centimetres away from his marvellous face and a groan, coming from none but his unfortunate neighbour.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius.

Claude stares at the blame, his hand still between his legs, soiled, stunned more than frightened. It’s the second time he almost got killed by the Shield of Fraldarius, for being a little bit too close to his future King for his liking. He wonders what Felix would have done if he had caught him dagger in hand a little bit earlier that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been thinking a lot about the dorms and who sleeps next to who. Poor Felix.  
> This is my favourite chapter so far, with Gronder scene being my absolute favourite. I'm a little bit disappointed that they didn't make out tho (Hilda is right, it happens okay)


	10. Red Wolf Moon - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You need to stop sending me mixed signals. What exactly are you trying to achieve here? You say you don’t want to start anything with Dimitri, but all your actions scream the opposite.”  
> “Who told you I wasn’t going to practice with someone else?”  
> “Claude,” she hits him with the book, unamused, “You’re head over heels with him. You wouldn’t, even if your life depended on it.”  
> He acts as if her blow deeply hurt him and lies on his bed – pretending to dead – to make her laugh, but truth is, as often Hilda’s words call him to order and force him to see all his contradictions; all the things he doesn’t want to see and choose not to are put into light with her clairvoyance and benevolence. From the start he has decided that there won’t be anything between Dimitri and him apart from friendship, but the further he is from that promise, the worst it gets, to the point when it gets impossible to think of him merely as a friend. His voice, his smell, his pace, Claude knows them by heart, he seeks for them, yearns for them, aches for them each day that passes and each of their meeting ends up having the same effects on him.  
> This is not enough, he wants more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First half of Red Wolf Moon (9k out of 19k).  
> I know you guys like long chapters but since the next moon is more than 30k I really need to cut chapters now. This is also good for my sanity and a hit to my life long nemesis, lady typos.  
> So the ending might not make a lot of sense but it's like CLIFFHANGER hahaha you'll see later I guess.  
> Anyway, you remember when I told you I thought a lot about the dorms' arrangement right?

* * *

#### Red Wolf Moon

.

#### Part One

* * *

With the first days of Red Wolf Moon came a significant drop of the temperature. Except from the Blue Lions, used to such cold weather, the Monastery’s walls were quite empty of its students when their presence weren’t needed. Claude is particularly sensible to this change, already regretting Blue Sea Moon or his last winter in Almyra. Still, he forces himself to walk to the archery field from time to time, not as soon as the sun rises of course; and perhaps it is less quiet with all those people around but as far as skills are concerned, his training is just a matter of not getting rusted more than improving himself. Another consequence of the cold is that no one drink their tea quietly in the terrace anymore, but rather in the dining hall or in their own room with scattered friends. Claude often finds Mercedes and Annette in the kitchen baking cakes, Lysithea and Hilda join them as well, and while the Northern girls whine about the lack of snow at this time of the year when it is probably covering the ground in the Kingdom’s capital, giving Claude goosebumps of terror, their group enjoy a warm cup of tea together, ignoring the wind, the concern on the Knights’ faces when they come back from Lemire village or, concerning Claude, Edelgard’s ulterior motives and possible rebellion against the Church of Seiros that is currently welcoming them under its roof.

Claude finds himself spending much of his free time in his room for various reasons, one being the will to avoid certain persons from his close circle – physically speaking, which mostly means Felix and Dimitri for the time being – and second, because lately everyone seems to come to him for idle chat, even the most unexpected people.

Like for example, Lorenz.

“I am utterly sorry about my own behaviour during the mock battle. I overestimated my strength, my negligence cost us victory.”

Claude would have been proud and most happy with this interview if it hadn’t been the fourth time Lorenz abuses of his room and tea set to talk about strategy and the future of the Alliance they will build together, which is still a step closer to Claude’s dream since his rival finally acknowledge his legitimacy, yet rubs him the wrong way.

“Your move was careless I’d give you that, but alas I don’t think we could have won, were you to obey my orders in first place,” Claude prepared the leaves Lorenz gave him for his birthday, which are actually delicious, “Our opponents were just too strong.”

“You never asked for the final count, didn’t you?” Why, of course not, they came second, this was already enough of a victory. “As you skilfully monopolized the Prince’s attention, he was less available to take down other enemies, which left room for us. Ignaz and Leonie, thanks to your coaching, have been quite effective, and if we indeed lost it wasn’t from much.”

“Oh, really?” He can’t help but feel surprised, even if to be perfectly honest, with the way the mock battle ended for him, he had no cure for the results or how his house managed at that moment. Only the weight of Dimitri on him, the grip on his wrist and his blood running from his lips had mattered.

“Tell me my friend, perhaps I’m wrong, but your friendship with the Prince of Faerghus might give you wrong ideas; he isn’t as strong as you picture him, or rather, you equal his strength with your own weapons, at least it is where my conclusions lead me. You shouldn’t underestimate the Golden Deers, or you, for what it’s worth.”

This leaves Claude pensive for a second. Having acknowledge the lack of objectivity he demonstrates everyday as soon as something concerns Dimitri, directly or indirectly, it wouldn’t be silly to have at his right side someone who could distinguish the embellished truth for facts his brain seems to associate these days, and Claude reflects as he finishes his cup that he has never been more glad than Lorenz finally decided to stop hating him.

“By the way, have you talked to Ferdinand about what we spoke the other day?” As far as he recalls, the Black Eagles have barely existed during the mock battle. If most deplored the absence of Manuella, Claude knows better. Edelgard wished for a complete victory but has shown no ambition for it as the battle started. Considering what she was after, their skills and cohesion as a whole, two ideas come to his mind. Edelgard might not want to display her real strength and intentions so soon in front of the Church’s eyes, which is not so reassuring but prudent and wise on her side, or perhaps her schemes are still too close to her heart, and not shared with the rest of her house, which would explain the lack of coherence.

“You know how Ferdinand is quick to criticize Lady Edelgard, as much as I was to speak evil of you.”

“Which is perhaps why you got along so well in first place.”

Lorenz huffs, but it’s genuine, “Perhaps, but this time is in the past. Again, I must admit your intuition was true once more. He didn’t get Edelgard plan at all, for him nothing made sense; the placement, the timing, her withdrawing and defying the Professor on her own…”

No, that is not true, it can’t be; Edelgard must have had a plan, Claude thinks of the note they found on Lonato’s body that too, made no sense at first glance, but revealed a greater scheme at the end of the moon. They just can’t see Edelgard’s plan for now, which is perhaps something that bothers him more than anything else in the Monastery, be it his growing feelings for Dimitri or the sharpness of Felix’s blade.

Claude hates to be left in the dark and see only one solution to the problem at hand. He needs to play chess with Hubert, as Edelgard so nicely proposed, probably extending him a hand only he has the chance to take or leave behind.

The problem is Claude has yet to find him. He can’t even recall one single time he saw him without Edelgard or in their classroom and they have already begun the second half of the year. Put out, his steps brave the cold and bring him to the library where he finds Linhardt reading yet another crestomancy book, one Hanneman actually wrote.

“Oh, by the way, I finished the book you lent me.” Linhardt doesn’t reply, he just looks back as if he were still debating what to say, which is something so un-Linhardt like Claude immediately smells something fishy is going on. Does it have to do with crests? Hanneman? The Black Eagles or the mission in Lemire?

He closes his book, “Can I come to your room to retrieve it back?” he asks and, oh, why would he be willing to go through all that effort for a book he knows by heart already, when Claude can bring him what he seeks the following day? There’s a hidden motive behind, “Sure!” Claude replies, and they go off immediately after that.

“Sorry about the mess,” Claude steps across various books scattered on the floor to get to his bed, where a dozen of others awaits him, and takes Linhardt’s from under his pillow.

“Oh, you should see my own room…” is the only comment he gets, but Claude waits for more. They couldn’t talk on the way because of other students constantly passing by but here, they are alone, truly alone, and so Claude waits with the book in hand, offering it to his owner who hesitates to take it back yet.

“I thought about what you told me,” Linhardt says, eventually, when he decides he has made Claude wait long enough. “About changing class.”

That was three of four moons ago, Claude is amazed he still remembers it with how thrilled he seemed at the idea. “Oh, what happened? Got in a fight with Caspar?” This can’t be a coincidence, this has to do with what happened at Gronder.

“No, I just realized I am not making any progress with my research.”

The timing is too perfect. “Is it perhaps because of your defeat? I wouldn’t thought you would care about such matters.”

“I don’t care about anything but science.” Linhardt replies, perhaps more vigorously than he has ever spoken to Claude. “The rest, everything, is superfluous, and above all I _hate_ fighting.”

His fists are curled into balls. He must know, they both know, what kind of plan runs behind Edelgard’s calm eyes. Is he expecting to get closer to the Alliance or Hanneman, to be discharged of his noble duty in the Empire, and avoid participating in a war he doesn’t acknowledge? Why acting so soon when they obviously have time before that fateful moment comes? Or did Linhardt see something that forced him to act now, something Claude missed?

“Okay,” is all he says. He’ll talk to Hanneman. Linhardt, as he leaves with his book in hands, smiles, and looks twice as light as he was when he entered Claude’s room.

He now has a new deer to look after.

* * *

Now that Claude has twice as many books to read thanks to his new friend, he doesn’t complain as much as he did in the past to have all this time to spend in his room when the wind blows and rain pours, as if the Goddess herself was in a mad fury against Her own Monastery. The following event happens while Claude is about to sleep after finishing another book of Legends from Dagda. Someone knocks furiously on his door, or so he thinks – the person uses so much strength it resonates through his own room, but the door being assaulted isn’t his but the one of his favourite neighbours.

“Felix! Open the door!” Dimitri speaks, rather loudly considering the late hour. Claude is now fully alert, there’s no way he can come back to sleep when his heart beats so fast. It’s only been a couple of days since Gronder Field, and he hasn’t had the opportunity to spend time with Dimitri – the Prince has been quite absent and, dare he say, busy with something he didn’t put Claude in the confidence of, and this is as much as a blessing for his heart than a hit for his pride. Claude has seen him talk with a noble from the Empire a couple of time, a man of a certain age with long hair and luxurious clothes. Maybe, next time they see each other he can ask about him, that will prevent them from thinking about what happened during the mock battle – the punches, the blood, the dagger, his lips on his cheek – or in the hot baths, or in any of Claude’s dreams when he wakes up in sweat and aching for more.

Felix groans, but eventually, Claude hears him moving from his bed. “What do you want boar!?” He has the curtesy not to shout but his voice is still abrasive.

“It’s Sylvain! He…he brought a girl in his room!” He whispers, but it is so easy to imagine his face when he says this – flustered, outraged! – than Claude can’t help but snort, and sticks his ear on the wall where Felix’s blade left an opening.

“And? What does it have to do with me?”

“He’s…they are…you know the walls are thin!”

Claude can almost picture Felix turning to his side of the room as he groans, “For sure I’m aware of that.”

“You have to help me stop him.”

“What for?”

“We can’t…Felix it’s…we can’t let him…do the evil act of fornication with a poor maiden he isn’t even engaged to!”

Claude must hush his laugh with a hand on his mouth. Evil act of fornication, and he thought Dimitri has no more charm to be displayed.

“Again, why does that concern _me_?” Felix sounds even more annoyed.

“You’re his best friend! You know what he’s doing is wrong! He’s not like himself since…since we fought his brother. As his friends, we need to give him assistance.”

“Then do it. The mere sight of your beastly face will be enough to make anyone go flaccid on the spot.”

Claude would love to object on that matter but now is not the appropriate time.

“Oh, what?” Felix goes on with an ironic tone, “You’re too prude to interrupt them? Too scared to see a bit of that maiden skin as if it will burn your eyes if you stare at it?”

“It is true that I am…not extremely comfortable at the idea. That’s why I seek for your help.”

“I won’t do it.”

“Felix, please! They are _moaning_! I can’t sleep!”

This is getting even more ridiculous as Dimitri can’t realize Felix is just as uncomfortable as he is with the idea of stumbling on their childhood friend busy in the middle of an intercourse with a perfect stranger. Claude just hopes the mention of someone moaning won’t give Felix any idea, like telling Dimitri what Claude has been doing the night after the mock battle, and all the other nights that followed for what it’s worth – but he’s learn to keep quiet, that is essential for his survival.

“…Grr…Fine! But if they’re that far, there’s only one way to stop him.”

Claude hears ruffle of clothes, and figures Felix must be dressing himself; they are going out of his room. Claude runs to the door.

“But Felix, she will _kill_ him!”

“You wanna sleep or what?!”

To that, Dimitri has no reply. Claude partially opens his door, just enough to let his face and hair untangled, his braid undone appear, as the two of them hurried to what he guesses is Ingrid’s room. “Hello gentlemen. Your Highness.” Dimitri halts and looks back, only for a second before his eyes fall on the ground, his face red. Goddess, he’s so endearing.

“What do you want?” Felix barks, even if at the reflexion he looks more like a stray cat.

“Nothing, I heard some noise and, you know how the walls are thin.” He winks, he’s safe here Felix won’t try to kill him in front of his future King – but oh he sure looks like he’ll gladly do. “Need any help?”

“Go away!”

“Okay, okay, if you change your mind…” he tries to catch Dimitri’s glance but he’s wasting his time, his eyes are glued to the floor. Claude slowly closes his door then, only to open it again when their steps are far enough to risk a quick visit to Sylvain’s room and check on his dubious activities.

He doesn’t even knock. “Sylvain! I know you’re quite busy but,” and indeed, they are, even Claude blushes at the sight, “Somehow you woke up Dimitri who told Felix and they are going to get you know who.”

Sylvain instantaneously stops everything he is doing – or in this case, holding – and the poor girl falls on the bed. “Oh.” It doesn’t match the look of utter panic on his face. Hoping his doing will give him a good point in the future Claude comes back to bed, content, filled with a rare satisfaction only the knowledge of having done a good action and help a good fellow can provide.

Before sleeping, Claude hears Dimitri’s boots hitting the floor in haste; he rolls on his side, closes his eyes, and then only he lets himself smile.

The following day Claude finds Sylvain eating alone in the dining hall. It is quite early, even for him, which gives the impression he is avoiding his classmates for obvious reasons. Claude pretends to have pity of him when he quite enjoys his company and wants to know the rest of the story and sits next to him. Sylvain gladly accepts his presence with a warming smile.

“It was quite adventurous to do such a thing, considering who you sleep next to.”

“Ah, don’t tell me about it, my cheek still hurts where Ingrid slapped me.” He rubs it as to prove his point. “To be honest I am sure Seteth stuck me here with His Highness on this purpose only. I usually stay the night at those girls’ house and come back before dawn, but with the rain…”

They both laugh wholeheartedly and enjoy their meal together when Sylvain adds. “By the way, you could perhaps help me next time to, you know, get His Highness out of his room?”

Claude chokes on his water, ashamed his thoughts went exactly where Sylvain aimed. He shouldn’t have thought of this if his mind has been pure and arbours nothing but feelings of friendship toward the Prince. “I beg your pardon?”

“You don’t fool me Claude, I know your deepest secret.” He says with his arms behind his head, giving him a nonchalant attitude Claude doesn’t appreciate much in that moment. “After what I saw at the end of the mock battle, you two fighting together, rolling on top of each other, and the way you were staring at him in the hot bath? You’d be lying if you tell me you’re not interested.”

It is far from his most important secret, or the most embarrassing but still, he would really like it to be hushed for how long it can. He needs to know if he can trust Sylvain with this.

“Ah, I promise I won’t say a thing.”

The Heavens seem to take him in pity and send Hilda, a real blessing with a dreadful timing, to his rescue. She’s holding a couple of necklaces and earrings in her hands, and it seems a couple of girls are waiting for her at the entrance. Pretending to be busy watching what his classmate is doing and completely forgetting to refute Sylvain’s claim – because, at some point, he’s done pretending, not to someone as gifted as Sylvain concerning love matters – Claude waits until Hilda finally takes notice of his presence and sits next to him, sighing.

“It doesn’t look like you to be so active this early. What’s happening?”

“Ah, Claude, you remember how I love making jewels? It’s my favourite hobby,” she tells Sylvain, who’s listening to them with a smile of content on his face, “With the ball coming all the girls wanted to have one of my creations. I’ve been working so hard for days!”

“Oh, this is so nice of you.” Sylvain comments.

“I don’t do it for free, I make them pay.”

“Of course, you do, I wouldn’t like it any other way, but a ball you said?” Since when did they have time for such idle occupation?

“Claude, don’t tell me you forgot about this. It is the only reason I accepted to go to Garreg Mach in first place.” She looks like she has lost all faith in him when he shrugs. “By the way, you’ll save me a dance I hope, maybe even the first one if you…you know.”

“Does she know?” Sylvain asks him out of the blue.

Claude looks at him in awe, no, he can’t mean-

“Come on _Sylvain_ , I’m his _best friend_.”

“Okay then. Aren’t you going to save your first dance for Dimitri?”

Claude, horrified by this new and unexpected coalition against his person, stares at them both with his eyes wide opened as if he was having a nightmare, and awaits to be awaken by the first rays of dawn but nothing comes.

“Do you have to speak so loud?” he hushes them. He isn’t going to hide it from them, especially to Hilda because she knows and knew before he the depth of his feelings but here, in the dining hall? “How am I supposed to do this?”

“Well, I dunno, ask him out?” Hilda proposes.

He sighs, they don’t understand, “I mean, technically I know how to do it, but it’s just impossible. Can you imagine how it will look from the outside, if two of the house leaders, two men on top of that, save the first dance for each other? If I were to save my first dance for Edelgard, it will be seen as the equivalent of a demand of courtship and you both know it.”

This leaves them both pensive, watching the ceiling or far ahead, “I am so glad I’m a second child.” Hilda says first.

“And I am so glad no one takes my love life seriously.” Sylvain adds, abandoning Claude to his impossible situation in which, no matter how he looks at the picture, there is not a single scheme that would permit him to have what he wants - _if_ Dimitri were to like him back, which is absolutely out of the picture for now.

In any case the ball is due next moon, he doesn’t see why people are so worked up about it already. He misses the point entirely, or so Hilda tells him. She leaves them when Raphael and Ignaz enter the dining hall with flowers and laces she asked of them for other commands, but only for a short while. A couple of hours later she’s back in Claude’s room, the smile of mischief painted on her face. “You told Sylvain!” she exclaims. “Quite clever of you, is it to have more information about the Prince of your Heart?”

She must think it is another plan to confess, but he’ll stick to his guns. “No, I’m afraid our little friend unfortunately shares one of your numerous talents.”

This immediately alters her mood. “Oh. He guessed?”

Claude nods, Hilda comes with him on his bed and sits where she can – between books, she takes one in her hands. “I see. How did he?”

“Oh, you know. What happened in Gronder Field helped, as well as the hot bath after the fight.”

“You mean when you were drooling over Dimitri’s big veins and pecs?”

Claude frowns and turns to her, “How can you be aware of that?” he says, his voice going high.

“Lorenz told me,” Claude’s poor heart is this close to stop, “I mean, don’t make that face! He just said you were awfully silent and so tired you kind of doze off looking at Dimitri’s hand, I connected the dots but be reassured, Lorenz isn’t good enough for that.”

“Thanks goodness! I don’t need that.” Not right now, not when the path to the future has never been more uncertain.

Hilda is rather silent next to him, which doesn’t announce anything good. What can she be thinking about? “What?” he says after a while.

“I just can’t believe you almost kissed him on a battlefield.”

“I didn’t!”

“And in front of the whole Monastery! Claude! What is the next step? A couple of weeks ago you were even rejecting the existence of your crush and now look at you, about to ask him out for the ball!”

“I’m _not_ going to do that,” Claude leans on his bed and takes a piece of paper from under his second pillow. It’s the pros/cons list he did a couple of moons ago. Hilda takes it, the ‘pros’ column still emptied except for Dimitri’s name. The ‘cons’ are, on the other hand, quite numerous, and on the bottom of the page Hilda is surprised to read Lorenz’s last name, followed by a question mark.

“Why is that? Are you developing feelings for our dear Lorenz as well?”

“No.” He can’t elaborate though, he is still waiting for Judith’s reply. Depending on it, he’ll go see Raphael and Ignaz, but he doesn’t want to revive such difficult times on a bad hunch. “Be reassured. My heart isn’t that easy to steal.”

“Seriously Claude,” she puts his notes aside. “Have you thought about telling him? Because, as fast as things are growing, and even if Dimitri is obvious to most of anything concerning love matters, if he doesn’t find out on his own someone is going to tell him. Not me, not Sylvain, but someone will. He’ll know, Claude, half the Monastery already suspects there’s something going on between the two of you.”

Claude laughs the problem away, “Are you, Felix and Sylvain half of the Monastery now?”

Hilda frowns, “Felix?”

Oh, yes, he hasn’t told her.

After a couple of minutes where Hilda hasn’t been able to stop laughing, to the point where she’s holding her stomach and has tears in the corner of her eyes, they gather around the hole Felix’s blade made on the wall. “This is perhaps the most hilarious things I’ve seen in my entire life.” She says.

“Perhaps?”

Hilda punches his shoulder, he whines but laughs with her after that. She reclines on the wall, her eyes on the mess of his bed. “Seriously Claude, how can you even sleep like that? Is that why Linhardt joins us? Because both your rooms are a living nightmare?” She takes one of the books. “Hum, this is not what you usually read. ‘Teutane Mountains’. It doesn’t look like a geography book at all judging by the cover.”

Indeed, there are two men riding on a wyvern, with their torso bare. “It’s the story of two soldiers too wounded to fight anymore who are sent to keep a herd of wyverns in Kingdom’s territory, in the mountains.”

Hilda browses through the first pages and skips directly to where Claude stopped. “And? How is that interesting?”

“Well, they fall in love.”

“Oh, how- oh _fuck_!” she chokes, reading the very line Claude thinks of.

“Well said Hilda.”

“They-this- _is this gay porn Claude_?” she hushes the last part.

He shrugs, “Better start somewhere. You should read this one I’m sure you’re going to adore it.” He hands her a couple of handwritten parchments of shorter stories.

“You need to stop sending me mixed signals. You don’t want to ask him out but you’re masturbating and learning about how to have sex with him as a nocturnal hobby. What exactly are you trying to achieve here? You say you don’t want to start anything with Dimitri, but all your actions scream the opposite.”

“Who told you I wasn’t going to practice with someone else?”

“Claude,” she hits him with the book, unamused, “You’re head over heels with him. You wouldn’t, even if your life depended on it.”

He acts as if her blow deeply hurt him and lies on his bed – pretending to dead – to make her laugh, but truth is, as often Hilda’s words call him to order and force him to see all his contradictions; all the things he doesn’t want to see and choose not to are put into light with her clairvoyance and benevolence. From the start he has decided that there won’t be anything between Dimitri and him apart from friendship, but the further he is from that promise, the worst it gets, to the point when it gets impossible to think of him merely as a friend. His voice, his smell, his pace, Claude knows them by heart, he seeks for them, yearns for them, aches for them each day that passes and each of their meeting ends up having the same effects on him.

This is not enough, he wants more.

He isn’t satisfied with the current situation and it starts to show, his body aches, it acts on its own, and Claude can shout and yell at his brain that it isn’t what he has planned to begin with, it is not louder than his heart asking, begging for more, for Dimitri Dimitri _Dimitri_ -

His dreams are vivid, heated, sweaty. But this he can handle. Desire, lust, they are easy to deal with.

What is more difficult for Claude are the dreams where they just are together, live together, go on a ride, visit Almyra and Faerghus, hold hands in front of their friends and no one say a thing, where his mother calls Dimitri her son and Claude’s cheeks then burn, it’s when Dimitri says those three words in his ears and he wakes up with an ache in his chest he cannot lift until he sees Dimitri flesh and bones, and the look of adoration is gone. Claude isn’t blind enough not to notice how he can’t concentrate as he used to. Books aren’t as interesting as the curve of his chin, or the different kind of blue of his iris, or all the different intonations he used until now when he calls his name.

There are two things he realizes, as he still pretends to be dead and Hilda reads the parchments; one, he’ll probably fall in Dimitri’s arms if the Prince were ever to like him back, even just a little – even just a fragment of his feelings for him - and, second, if he doesn’t then, well, Claude will perhaps be up for some flirting, even knowing how dangerous it can be for them both – for Fódlan – for the world.

Funny, how a simple name can have more power than the promise of a war, when it’s the one of someone so dear to his heart.

He gets back from the fake dead and rises, Hilda is still reading; she hates fighting, Linhardt, Marianne, Ignaz, they all hate to take the arms, they are going to be miserable if a war explodes. But, imagining they never get caught, if they remain quiet, discreet enough, no one would suffer from their affair, no one except them when time will come for Dimitri to take a wife and him, well, he’ll probably have the same fate, like those two soldiers in his book, the Monastery will be their holy place.

But isn’t it too far ahead? Dimitri doesn’t even like him back, something’s definitively wrong with his head.

Hilda gasps, very loudly, catching his attention. He looks up, bemused; he could have never guessed the words that took him out of his vicious spiral would be-

“Isn’t it Bernie’s handwriting?”

* * *

Claude doesn’t find the opportunity to talk to Dimitri until they’re half into Red Wolf moon. Later the Prince will say he has been busy and his sleeping schedule a nightmare, which explains why Claude hasn’t been able to find him in all the usual places and no, he hasn’t been avoiding him, even if some of his excuses sounds just like his from a couple of moon prior. But it’s alright, Claude forgives him, always, and entirely.

They have repeated with Hilda, again and again.

 _“How on Earth did you come to the conclusion that asking Dimitri out will end up in a terrible war?!”_ she asked him. He told her everything. He explained how the Empire could see them coming together as a threat, and even when she reminded him that in the past, the Kingdom and the Alliance had been one and only territory, this is where Count Gloucester entered the scene. No matter how he looked at it in his current situation, every single one of the political forces would be against them.

He walks to the Blue Lions classroom. Teach is talking with Annette about how she should rest today. Dimitri is in the middle of them all, deep in thought, he’s at the centre of the class and yet he looks so alone.

_“Then what if no one finds out? You’re clever Claude, you’ll think of something.”_

Of course he is clever, of course they could very well stay hidden from the world, that would be a nice, perhaps the nicest possibility of all. Claude doesn’t enter the class, he can’t – he waits, he wants Dimitri to see him and to walk to him as if he has no other choice, as if Claude was so irresistible he wouldn’t be able to stay sit on his desk.

_“And I’m sure he already likes you. If he doesn’t then you’ll open his eyes…show him how much he’s missing.”_

After all, don’t they say love is just a game? Claude likes to play, and when it comes to trap he’s a pure master, there’s no denying it.

Dimitri saw him perhaps a minute ago and still feigns ignorance; Claude can see even from the distance with the way his shoulders are tensed. Claude makes him nervous. This is a start, something he can work with.

Ashe and Sylvain come to greet him, Ashe asks him what he’s doing here, Sylvain doesn’t – he knows already – and when it is too obvious he’s waiting for someone else, eventually, Dimitri leaves his comrades and takes him by the arm. Claude happily follows his lead, especially since he’s bringing them to a most isolated place, where only a few pair of eyes would see them.

“Claude.” Oh Goddess, how much can he miss Dimitri saying his name? Even if this time it doesn’t have the same exquisite savour, Dimitri sounds on edge, or worse, in a hurry – as if spending time with him has become nothing but a waste of his time. “What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be studying?”

“Ah yes, probably, but I haven’t seen you in a while, and I was wondering if you were alright. Glad to see you don’t miss me too much.” Dimitri frowns, confused, obviously missing the joke here but knowing him enough not to take his words on first degree. “And that Sylvain is still alive. Ah, what a night.”

Dimitri colours his cheeks with light pink. “Indeed, he is, for now. Tell me, what did you come here in the middle of classes? I didn’t expect to see you so soon in the day to be honest, your presence took me by surprise.”

“Is this why you brought me so far away from unwanted ears?”

“Ah, hn, no, but we’ll get to that later. Tell me if there’s something on your mind first. I can’t imagine you going out of your way without a motive.” He says, which isn’t far from the truth, he is starting to really know him, better each moon. “Do you have new information about the Flame Emperor? Or is it the Death Knight?”

Claude likes sophisticated games, long games, games where there’s not only one way to win but a bunch of possibilities. Claude likes to scheme, to trap his enemies.

“No, Your Highness, I think you overestimated your humble friend here.” Claude catches as Dimitri curls one of his fist when he didn’t use his name, this is a small revenge, “Because I just came here in hope of seeing you. I’ve missed you.”

And his fist uncurls, and his eyes widen, and for a moment Dimitri looks like he’s been hit bit a comet; Claude’s words were the last he expected to hear, and for a moment Claude even wonders how long it has been since he’s heard them, and Claude said them. Probably long, too long.

“I know it is getting chilly and I, so weak and fragile in the cold, don’t go out so often but Dimitri! When was the last time you came to my room and have a nice chit chat? Or when did we read a book together at the library?”

“Bu-but I saw you a couple of days ago.” He stammers, oh how sweet, so sweet of you Dimitri, to be so flustered by so little.

“But you were with Annette and Ashe and I with Lysithea; I’m talking about some quality time alone, just the two of us like before! Come on tell me, how long as it been?” he asks, knowing the answer already.

They haven’t been this close since the mock battle.

“I have to admit, now that you put these elements into lights…Claude, I am most deeply sorry. I realize now you must have thought I have neglected our friendship.”

Claude crosses his arms against his chest and looks away, his chin high, pretending to be deeply hurt.

“Please, accept my apology. I was…”

“Is there something troubling you?”

Dimitri gasps when Claude, sly as always, leans into his personal space. He steps back but hits the wall behind, trapped with no place to escape.

“Perhaps it has something to do with that visitor from last week?”

“Lord Arundel?”

So that’s the name. “Tall, old, looking mysterious with a bit of make up?”

“That would be him indeed,” Dimitri nods slowly, his eyes, for the first time, bolt enough to keep Claude’s insistent gaze for more than a few seconds, an attention Claude is quite fond of since he cannot stop his lips from curving up. “I must say you have seen right through me, once more…But we cannot talk about this here.”

“Where then? My room?”

“The library.”

“Saturday night? Your time is mine.”

Dimitri nods, they’ll meet at midnight. This is the most date-like rendezvous he’s ever had to plan. Claude is about to go, “Wait,” Dimitri grasps his sleeve in extremis, “Claude, that is not all. I feel…we still need to talk about what happened at Gronder Field.” He says, and this time he doesn’t meet his eyes.

Claude cannot agree more with him, but that’s where he has to take a most important decision. Claude likes games because he likes the satisfaction of winning but love isn’t really one he’s accustomed to, or even barely good at; yet he plays with the pieces he has at hand, considering and judging which ones it is safe to sacrifice to help him get what he wants.

“Oh, do we Your Highness?” He teases him, again, and Dimitri is delightedly not familiar with it yet – and if he were a bit better at discerning the truth behind Claude’s lies, he’ll easily guess that he’s merely trying to cover his nervousness behind a fake smile. “Is it about your victory, or something more personal?”

There are actually two thorny subjects they need to address, one being the dagger and attempt of murder and the last and most dangerous – paradoxically – being the not so well hidden erotic tension the adrenaline of their tight fight aroused, to the point where Claude lost his common sense. He can feel that the resolve in the Prince’s hold is quivering, lacking some sort of courage to reveal all the questions he seeks answers for, giving him a certain power to decide which road he wants their meeting to take from here. Yet, explaining the presence of the dagger and where it comes from is another step in the impasse of Claude’s past, a road he won’t let anyone walk in, not even Dimitri; on the other hand unveiling his growing attraction might be a double edge sword, since a word of rejection from Dimitri would silence him forever. But if they were returned, these gross feelings climbing like a stem looking for the warmth of the sun to the surface might very well bring the dawn of a new age for their respective territory, be it a world a piece and cooperation or of a ruthless war.

It’s all in Claude’s hand, the piece he wants to sacrifice. Who will he listen to then, his mind, or his heart?

And the words come easier than he expects, for some which will most likely change his life forever.

He takes a breath. “If it’s about what happened after the fight- “

“Your Highness? Where are you?”

Dedue’s voice interrupts their interview at the worst timing. As Dimitri releases his tunic he knows the moment where both their hearts were opened and willing to talk to one another, without barrier, without any artefact is gone, for _Dimitri_ has vanished, his princely look is back on his face the moment the words ‘Your Highness’ were spoken. Claude has no choice but to adapt to this most brutal and unwanted change, a smile on his face to hide his turmoil as always, as if he wasn’t just about to admit what kind of thoughts run into his head at night where no one can read them, which would have given the most vulnerable side of him away, to have it swap from his fingers, just by a mere call of unfortune.

The three of them walk together to their classroom, silently. Claude walks ahead, his steps falsely light, “See you on Saturday?” he whispers when they are about to part, aware he’s too loud not to be heard by Dedue but still giving the impression these words weren’t meant to be overheard.

That’s when Dimitri holds his wrist, tightly, too tightly with his gantlet, hurting his skin. He’ll leave a bruise, they both know it.

“Did you mean it, what you said earlier?” He murmurs just as much – this is something only for Claude’s ears, but they’re just standing in front of the Blue Lion’s classroom and everyone can see them – and pulls on Claude’s arm, his lips so close to his face. “That you’ve missed me? Or is it another one of you schemes to mess up with me?”

And as quickly as it has come the grip on his wrist is gone, such as Dimitri and the only thing that remains are the pain, the warmth on his cheek he can’t make go away. Rarely has Claude feel so flustered and exposed in his entire life, for he hasn’t had any chance to reply to this, how could he call this, accusation? Or confession? As if Dimitri wished for an answer but was too afraid to ask directly, in fear of being deceived. What is the worst, really? Fearing happiness, or deception? Or to build a wall around yourself never to feel one or the other?

Bemused, knowing not if he should feel flattered, upset or blissfully happy, Claude stands in the middle of the entrance for a moment, his mind utterly blank for what seems to be an eternity for him, but are just a few seconds only. When Dimitri looks back though, he’s gone already.

* * *

The end of the week can’t come quicker enough. Claude has ants in his pants, literally. Knowing they have a sort of meeting point on Saturday makes it bearable to just wait, and smile at Dimitri as if they were just friends – which is what they _are_ , undoubtedly – and chitchat around others as if they don’t mind the audience, never. But Claude can see; it’s subtle but it’s there, in the way Dimitri frowns more easily these days, or jerks his eyes on the side each time someone walks past them or speaks too loud, he’s on edge. In his dreams, they are in the hot bath together, alone, Claude runs his hand in Dimitri’s hair, his blue eyes closed, he’s resting. “Hush, my love, it’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, hot water running from his hand on the Prince’s sleeping face. And that’s all and yet it’s everything, it’s enough.

Linhardt halts on their way to class. Claude mimics him, he’s looking at the old man Dimitri has talked to last week – what is he still doing here?

“Who is it?” he asks because this time he’s talking with Hubert and Edelgard, and Claude then suspects Linhardt might know him as well and would talk.

“Lord Arundel, actual regent of the Empire,” Claude’s mouth forms a ‘O’, he had no idea – how could he have missed that? “And Edelgard’s uncle.”

Claude doesn’t follow him immediately when Linhardt leaves to their class, staring at them conversing under the porch. He catches Edelgard’s gaze, and they both acknowledge each other presence with a courteous nod and leave it at that.

On Saturday night Claude tries not to be too eager, doesn’t over dress or put cologne – why would he, for a night at the library, plotting against the Empire’s current regent on top of everything – and remembers Hilda’s words of encouragement, along with Dimitri’s voice.

_‘Did you mean it? That you’ve missed me?’_

He looks back at the pros/cons list, displays on his desk, and the words _‘Dimitri will never like me back’_ he wrote so long ago on the cons’ column seems bigger now. He takes his skill, hope and optimism guiding his movement and very gracefully adds a question mark after them. Now, the words truly are terrifying, he can’t look at them anymore.

For the first time since he arrived at the Garreg Mach, Claude’s steps are uncertain; he has a clear idea of what he wants yet is scared to claim it, if this happiness is ever granted to him, and has no plan B.

Plan B materializes itself in the form of Lysithea and Annette, studying together while Dimitri waits in the corner of the library. “Hey, what is this sweety pie still doing here?”

“I am not leaving before she does!” she says, pointing at Annette, who pouts just as intensely. They are the same, this is another competition between mages. Linhardt observes from his usual spot and seems rather amused. Claude is glad he’s reading the book he got him for his birthday and that it’s almost over. They sit together, waiting, watching the girls reading the same chapter and practicing their magical arts at the same time with the same talent. Those two are skilled, indeed, and determined, but also very exhausted.

The fourth time Claude sends a quick glance toward the end of the library where Dimitri reads – who casts him a glance every minute, but that he can’t see – Linhardt softly laughs, and tells him, “What a shame you forgot your tea this time,” which colours his cheek with crimson red for various good reasons. Recruiting Linhardt might not have been a move he did for this purpose, yet the old Black Eagle finds himself an unexpected good ally in his personal life as he manages, Claude doesn’t know how, to calm down his consorts and, after promising he’ll show them a trick only he – supposedly – could teach them, incites them to go back to their rooms, reminding them sleep is the only time when what they’ve been learning for hours will print in their mind and rest for years. Claude wonders for a second if it’s the reason why Linhardt sleeps so much.

He’s about to ask him when he comes back from the door, “No need to thank me,” Linhardt passes by him, takes his book and walks away, “It’s too tiresome to watch you dancing around each other.”

The last words weren’t spoken as quietly as Claude would have wanted; fearing Dimitri might have overheard and understood the innuendo – which, let’s be honest, is highly improbable – Claude turns around in a rush only to lock eyes with Dimitri, who immediately looks down to whatever book he’s reading. There’s already a lump in his stomach, and they haven’t even talked yet, fantastic. But at least now, they are truly alone. They have free rein to talk about what troubles Dimitri, about Lord Arundel.

Yet, Claude remains where he is, just watching Dimitri who pretends to read – he isn’t turning the pages, he’s so bad at this, Claude could teach him some of his tricks – and waits. He takes his time, just like that time where he waited for him outside the Blue Lion’s classroom, he stares, studies, the way Dimitri grows impatient as his grip on the page tightens and rips the one he was holding. Claude laughs.

“Are you back at playing the deer now? Luring me into the depth of the forest, and now that you have me exactly where you want you refuse to meet me.”

“You liked me better as a wyvern?” Claude approaches him eventually, he’s not heartless, and on top of everything he cannot resist. “I thought you didn’t like them much.”

“I like you better when you’re simply Claude.”

Claude bites on his lip but it’s no use, it’s too late, he smiles, and blushes and he’s so flustered he hates himself, for needing to grasp the table to hold a semblance of composure. The fact that in front of him, Dimitri is still avoiding his gaze and the tip of his ears are slightly pink again doesn’t help. This might be the first time Dimitri voices his affection that way, or even said ‘I like you’, even if it doesn’t mean much, or at least not as much as what Claude is feeling for him.

“What’s that you’re reading?”

He asks because from where he stands, which is backward, Claude still can see it is not what he usually spends time on – with words like ‘onions’ and ‘tomatoes’ and ‘steamed cooking’, he’s a hundred percent sure this is not what they came here to talk about. Even if, to be frankly honest, Claude won’t mind.

“Oh, nothing it was just, to pass time.” He closes the book, then walks to the bookcase that interests him, and has been for moons. “Waiting for you.”

Claude joins him silently, watches him, his blue eyes devouring all the books on the top aisle. They’re about the Church’s finance. Claude has an idea of what could interest him.

“If I were you…” he leans closer, but he’s too short to grasp the book he wants – his hand ends up grasping Dimitri’s shoulder for balance, he tiptoes, his chest brushes against his back – yet it’s not enough, his fingers catch the cover but not strongly enough to take to book out. Dimitri raises his arm and, his hand covering Claude’s, holds the object of their common interest, and Claude can’t help but think that if he hadn’t worn his gantlet, their hands could have touched. “Ah, yes, this one.” His voice is carefree, a bit joyful even when his heart hammers, in his chest, in his ears it beats so loud Claude can barely think. Touching – _touching_ – Dimitri reminds him of the last time it occurs, when his eyes could barely see anything but his face and dirt and blood, him on his back and Dimitri pining his wrist on the ground, his weight on him, his smell – god, he smells so nice, if only Claude could stay there his nose so close to the crook of his neck – the intensity of his gaze, everything resurfaces. While Dimitri turns around Claude knows well enough he’s too close, that he should step back but he can’t. His hand, slowly, runs down his back, his fingers stop at his waist before leaving the warmth of his tunic, and he sighs at the loss. Dimitri is, on the other hand, concentrated on the book at hand, frowning, reading the title probably and Claude is glad, he is so glad he’s not staring back because he might have pushed him against the bookcase and kissed him if he were to.

Instead, Claude pays attention to some details that should have alarmed him.

“Dimitri, you look awful.” He has bags under his eyes that haven’t been there a moon ago, his skin is visibly paler, and his hair is…greasy. Not very princely like.

Dimitri chuckles, there’s something bitter underneath. “Thank you, I appreciate your compliments more and more.”

Claude rolls his eyes, this is not what he meant and they both know it. “Look, as a friend I can also worry about you as much as I like, this is part of the contract.”

“I have enough people worrying about me for nothing. Dedue, the Professor…I don’t need a babysitter Claude, I can take care of myself just fine, I know my limits.”

“Judging by how you look right now, allow me to doubt it,” Dimitri stares harshly, okay, wrong thing to say, “But okay, as you wish. Tell me about that man then. I’ll do anything to help you sleep easier.”

Dimitri lets out a sigh, for some reason Claude has a feeling he needs to step back now. He can’t find the strength to have a serious conversation when their crouches are almost touching.

As expected of him Dimitri reveals all the information he has gathered these past moons about Lord Arundel, his link with the Church of Seiros and the unexpected halt of his donation to the Monastery a couple of years ago.

“The timing, more than the fact itself, is what is bothering me most.”

“Oh, why that? Does is corresponded with an event in particular?”

“It was last time I saw him in the Kingdom actually.”

“But, why would he go to the Kingdom in first place?” Claude thought he was regent of the Empire, does he have any link with Faerghus as well? That would make him deliciously suspicious.

“Well, he’s my uncle after all.”

“Oh.”

Oh.

_…Oh!_

“What?!” Claude yells, connecting the dot. “He’s…your…but he’s also…Edelgard…”

Dimitri turns even paler than before, he puts a hand on his mouth, “Claude!” he whispers, “How can you possibly know?”

Claude tries to say he shouldn’t be so surprised by his skill at information gathering but the gantlet hurts his lips too much to talk. The moment is badly chosen for a little scene, as Tomas enters the library, certainly guided by Claude’s voice. They need to leave, but Claude won’t – can’t – end their conversation that way.

He takes him by the wrist, “Whether you like it or not Dimitri, you’ll reveal all your secret tonight. Let’s go to my room.”

And they run back to the dorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hm. I wonder what they are going to do.


	11. Red Wolf Moon - Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve always wondered how you manage to look so bright; your smiles, your voice, even your words,” Dimitri speaks, “When I stared at you I couldn’t understand at first why it felt so charming; it took me a while to realize they have disappeared, the voices, just like now they don’t ask for blood, for revenge, for things that are too big for my shoulders to bear. They hush when you arrive and you ask nothing, instead you give, warmth, friendship, your ears, but you’re so difficult to grasp Claude.” The grip on his hair tightens, bringing Claude’s face back up and even closer than before, their nose almost touching. “I am not like you, I don’t like games, to guess, I need straightforwardness, and everyone told me to be so careful around you, but how can I let go of something that feels so pleasant? I tried to advance carefully, always afraid you would go away the moment you’d realized I needed you more than I let it appear, hiding the fact that the mere sight of you was enough to fill my days with thoughts that weren’t as dark as they used to be but I fear, more than anything now, that as my friends foresaw I miserably fell into your trap, Claude, haven’t I?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING : Gore / Major description of violence (I'll add the tag on the Ao3 major warnings don't worry)  
> WARNING 2 : Apart from that the chapter is really not M or E rated BUT the boys might be under some sort of drugs Claude is fond of at some point, unintentionally.  
> Also the two warnings are not related.
> 
> Since I had to cut the chapter in a middle of a scene I put the end of last chapter in italic so you can remember what happened!

* * *

#### Red Wolf Moon

.

#### Part 2

* * *

_As expected of him Dimitri reveals all the information he has gathered these past moons about Lord Arundel, his link with the Church of Seiros and the unexpected halt of his donation to the Monastery a couple of years ago._

_“The timing, more than the fact itself, is what is bothering me most.”_

_“Oh, why that? Does is corresponded with an event in particular?”_

_“It was last time I saw him in the Kingdom actually.”_

_“But, why would he go to the Kingdom in first place?” Claude thought he is regent of the Empire, does he have any link with Faerghus as well? That would make him deliciously suspicious._

_“Well, he’s my uncle after all.”_

_“Oh.”_

_Oh._

_…Oh!_

_“What?!” Claude yells, connecting the dots. “He’s…your…but he’s also…Edelgard’s…”_

_Dimitri turns even paler than before, he puts a hand on his mouth, “Claude!” he whispers, “How can you possibly know?”_

_Claude tries to say he shouldn’t be so surprised by his skill at information gathering but the gantlet hurts his lips too much to talk. The moment is badly chosen for a little scene, as Tomas enters the library, certainly guided by Claude’s voice. They need to leave, but Claude won’t – can’t – end their conversation that way._

_He takes him by the wrist, “Whether you like it or not Dimitri, you’ll reveal all your secrets tonight. Let’s go to my room.”_

He doesn’t ask for his blessing but feeling no resistance as he drags him out to his room, Claude figures there is no objection on Dimitri’s side. After all, he wants help that bad, for something that seems to trouble him so much to alter his sleep; there’s a price to pay, and usually this price is the truth one is so desperate to hide from unwanted stare.

Claude realises, as he closes the door, that he hasn’t released Dimitri’s wrist yet.

“You’re siblings!”

“By marriage only.” Dimitri adds quickly.

“I can’t believe you’re siblings!”

“After my birth mother died, my father married Edelgard’s birth mother, who then became my step-mother.”

“That’s why you said you couldn’t marry her! And why you cared so much about her! Wait,” he frowns, his eyes turning to him, “This doesn’t make any sense. Why would the Emperor let his wife marry the King of Faerghus when he’s still alive, and leaving Edelgard behind? Was she kidnapped?”

Dimitri seems as lost as himself upon this absurdity, for nothing was ever told to him in his youth; but things are what they are, and now both his mothers are dead. How can this even be? The Empire and the Kingdom, united by the holy law of marriage, at the Alliance’s expense? This is a political nightmare!

“I’m sorry to ask this of you, but Claude, my friend, I beg you; do not talk about the link between me and Edelgard, to anyone.”

“You mean no one knows?” Not his friend, not the Blue Lions, even not the Church of Seiros?! Claude reclines on his desk. “I need a drink.”

They go for tea, the one Lorenz gifted him for his birthday, but soon the leaves are forgotten as Dimitri tells him about the unlikely past he shares with Edelgard. They sit on the floor, like last time when they have played chess and Dimitri left too soon and too wounded; but tonight he talks, he talks a whole lot so freely and with bare honesty. Claude can see in the brightness of his eyes more than hear the feelings he had and still has for her, and somehow they hurt. His stomach feels like turning inside out, the ache travels to his limbs until it reaches the tip of his fingers.

“It was for her, the dagger.” He says more than asks. Because there are too many clues pointing at the same direction. Because Claude had sensed it before he knew. Because he had teased him before they knew each other, and his hunches never miss.

Dimitri has the decency to look embarrassed. “Yes. But at that time, I didn’t know. She was my dearest friend. She taught me how to dance.”

The words hold something beautiful yet bittersweet at the same time, something only the memories of a happy and long-gone childhood could give. Claude wonders if he can hope, one day, to be talked about with the same tenderness Dimitri just used right now and smiles bitterly. How much of a fool could he be? He doesn’t know Dimitri that well, hasn’t known him for this long actually, and he mistook one moment of weakness and bemusement for the affection he longed for but doesn’t deserve.

He definitely needs a drink now.

“Ouh!” This is disgusting, they forgot the tea and now it’s too strong. Claude adds some sugar but ends up putting in too much. It’s nothing he can drink.

“Oh, give it to me, I don’t mind.” And to prove his point, Dimitri takes a sip and doesn’t quiver. Claude stares in awe. How can he do that?

“You’re a real mystery to me.” Claude pours himself another cup and add some water and less sugar this time. It shall do it. “I would have never thought you could keep such a big secret, not only from me, but from everyone.” Claude puts down his cup. “I’m impressed, really.”

The subject of Lord Arundel and his supposed scheme come back on the table. As Claude suspected, Dimitri never thought the tragedy where his whole world collapsed had been orchestrated by Duscuriens. He has been looking all this time for the culprit by analysing all sort of disturbances in the Kingdom’s affairs and, studying all the possibilities, his steps brought him to his uncle.

“The fact that he stopped donating to the Church the moment he took Edelgard from our home, could it meant they started to elaborate their plan…back…then…urg.” Dimitri holds his head, his face grimacing with pain.

“Dimitri? Are you alright?”

“Yes,” this is visibly a lie though, “It happens, from time to time. Lack of sleep.”

“Even you acknowledge then.” Claude says, unimpressed.

Dimitri stares hard but doesn’t deny it. “This one is particularly intense though…Claude, can I borrow your bed for a moment?”

“Sure.” As Dimitri crawls to the bed – well, tries to, there’s so much book on it Dimitri can’t lie down – Claude walks to his desk and opens his secret box, hoping to find a remedy of some sort to ease the pain. What is this, a migraine? It’s not a simple headache, Claude hopes it’s nothing too serious – he’s seen people holding their head and then fall on the ground, dead. His hands tremble, but soon they stop.

The box his empty. Or rather, all his vials are empty. Claude suddenly remembers the moment Teach came into his room and looked there too, and how Hilda – what did Hilda do of his mixtures? – disposed of them.

Behind him, Dimitri groans, “Let me go…let me go…” His eyes follow the mess of his desk to stop on the sugar pot they’ve just used. Claude takes it and smells, then coughs.

Right, fantastic, it seems Hilda undirectedly drugged them.

“Claude.”

Dimitri seems more unwell by the minute. What on earth did he put in his preparations already? He’s sure there was a sleeping potion but there were two others vials and who knows what a hazardous combination could do?

“Claude, please, come here. Make them go away.” He groans.

He turns around to Dimitri’s plead only to find out, unsurprisingly, that he’s suffering from some side effect himself, his head spinning already. Dimitri has miraculously found a place on his bed and sits against the wall just next to the relic of Felix’s assault, his hand hiding his face. He looks really sick; Claude kneels in front of him.

“We should go see Manuella,” he hushes, because if they’re having the same symptoms his brain must hurt as hell. “You really seem awful.”

“No,” Dimitri takes Claude’s hand and clumsily hits his face with it, before running it on his cheek, his eyes closed; Claude holds his breath. “You make them go away.”

Claude can’t move, not a single muscle; he kneels in between Dimitri’s spread legs, on his bed and Dimitri just took his hand and stuck it on his face and his head spins, so fast, his thoughts are inexistent, and without any warning his second hand cups Dimitri’s other cheek on its own and raises his head to him. “Dimitri,” he whispers, “who are they?”

Dimitri groans, he’s still in pain, his eyes are still closed. “Voices, voices from the dead. Make them go away Claude.”

“Tell me what I can do to help you.”

Dimitri opens his eyes, his pupils are wild, a side effect of Claude’s concoction he’s afraid; still it doesn’t make the sight less alluring. Claude bites on his lips, but the worst is yet to come. “Talk to me. Stay with me. Touch me.” He grasps Claude’s wrist and lowers his hand to his neck, his chest, “You’re so bright they don’t dare to hold me when you’re there.”

“Me, bright?” Claude laughs at the absurdity of the situation. Is this a joke? Another one of his dream?

“I’ve lived in the dark for so long, since Duscur, since I saw my parents and friends being slaughtered in front of me, and the smoke, and the blood, the scent never went away, I cannot taste anything but ashes and iron. I forgot what it was to feel the warmth of the sun on my skin so long ago.” Dimitri runs his gantlet on Claude’s face, on his chin, his cheekbone, his temple. His gaze, darken by emotions Claude prefers to ignore for the time being, penetrates his mind, paralyzed his thoughts. “There’s something I’ve always dreamed of doing, would you let me?”

“Yes, everything you want Dimitri.” Claude replies with a voice that doesn’t feel like it belongs to him – but it does, more than ever, it’s his voice when there’s no barrier or fence around him, his voice when he stands defenceless in front of his object of adoration.

Dimitri catches his braid and takes the hair tie off; he tries to undo it, but his fingers are too thick due to his armour. “Take it off, Claude, take them both off.”

Claude obliges, his hands carefully taking off the gantlets one by one slowly, very slowly, his palms running on Dimitri’s arms. As they touch, he cannot prevent blood rushing to his cheeks, and elsewhere, with the way Dimitri whines each time Claude caresses his skin through the fabric. It’s addicting. “Do you want me to take off your boots too?” he can’t help but ask, and then his cape, and whole tunic and Claude’s would follow. When Dimitri nods Claude then knows, despite the ache, despite all the voices in his head telling him it’s a road he shall not follow, that they wouldn’t be able to go back to what they were.

“I’ve always wondered how you manage to look so bright; your smiles, your voice, even your words,” Dimitri speaks, his hands playing with Claude’s hair as he’s busy with the task of taking off the Royal’s boots, “When I stared at you I couldn’t understand at first why it felt so charming; it took me a while to realize they have disappeared, the voices, just like now they don’t ask for blood, for revenge, for things that are too big for my shoulders to bear. They hush when you arrive and you ask nothing, instead you give, warmth, friendship, your ears, but you’re so difficult to grasp Claude.” The grip on his hair tightens, bringing Claude’s face back up and even closer than before, their nose almost touching. “I am not like you, I don’t like games, to guess, I need straightforwardness, and everyone told me to be so careful around you, but how can I let go of something that feels so pleasant? I tried to advance carefully, always afraid you would go away the moment you’d realized I needed you more than I let it appear, hiding the fact that the mere sight of you was enough to fill my days with thoughts that weren’t as dark as they used to be but I fear, more than anything now, that as my friends foresaw I miserably fell into your trap, Claude, haven’t I?”

It is hard not to shut him up with a kiss, and the only thing that prevents Claude from doing so is the thought, always lingering, that this cannot be real, the words he spoke, they are not from Dimitri, they are the drugs talking for him. Withdrawing from the lion’s den, Claude finds Dimitri’s ankles and runs his hands up to his knees now that the boots have gone and halts there a moment, wondering if he should go higher – but Goddess, does he want this. Lacking of any sense of inhibition thanks to their earlier beverage Claude is quick to surrender to his inner voices and dirty thoughts; and the way Dimitri stares, as if he’s waiting, expecting, _wants_ Claude to continue makes him bold and eager. His hands pursue their journey, the discovery of the Prince of Faerghus’s magnificent legs, and they more gently run on his thighs, his fingernails brushing against his sides to arouse a shiver, until they reach his hips; Dimitri reclines on the wall, his head backward and groans. Claude comes to his ear, “When was the last time someone touched you like this?” he breathes. Dimitri slowly turns to him and meets his gaze, but doesn’t reply. Never, it means, never, and there’s nothing more exhilarating than the knowledge that, whatever they do tonight, even if his lids are heavier with each minute that passes, Claude will be his first, always, and the fact spreads in his veins a blissfulness that not even what they shared at Gronder Field can match.

“Can I take off your gloves too?”

Dimitri nods again, his looks drowsy now but at least, his head doesn’t seem to hurt. Claude pulls on each finger one by one before taking the first glove off and does the same with the second one. Dimitri silently watches him do as if the sight hypnotized him. Is it really all Claude’s doing? What kind of voices rule him? Can he sooth him that much? Freed from his black gloves Claude takes the time to study the hands he adores so much, his finger tracing the lines on the palm before bringing it to his mouth. He leaves small kisses there, entwines their fingers before kissing his inner wrist.

“There’s something I have always dreamed of doing.” He says then, because he feels so hot he’s going to melt, and his mind feels so much like jelly he’s afraid he’s going to say stupid things, harmful things, things like ‘I love you Dimitri’ when none of them are ready, and he desperately needs his mouth busy. He cups Dimitri’s cheeks with his hands, their nose slide against each other, he’s a breath away from his goal, a breath away from his lips. “Will you let me?” He asks, so softly.

“Only if you stop teasing me.” Dimitri’s chapped lips brush against his own, a jolt of electricity travels on his face and down his spine, it’s so hard not to close his eyes and surrender.

Yet Claude smiles instead, “You know how much I love playing hard to get.”

“And you got me, Claude;” Dimitri cups his cheek in return, “You got me. You have me.”

And Claude, strong Claude, the calm in the storm, lets his mask fall on Dimitri’s lap. Ignoring the pain and burn in his eyes, always denying them, he gasps as it is not him who closes the inexistent gap between them but Dimitri as their lips meet and he hears him, the little boy inside him, who never fit anywhere, who didn’t have any friends, who yearned for love and affection, he hears him crying, and his tears are as joyful as they are sad, and exasperated, because why would it take to cross the border to their enemy’s territory and meet with a Prince to find what he has been desperately longing for so long?

Their first kiss isn’t as passionate as the ones of his dreams but it’s okay, Claude kisses him again with full lips, and Dimitri follows his lead, his hands go behind his neck while Dimitri buries his in his hair. Claude kisses the corner of his lips, his cheek, he travels to his ear, “Dimitri,” he moans, before assaulting his jaw, his chin, his neck.

“I can barely feel my limbs anymore.” Dimitri confesses, hissing when Claude bites on his skin, “Only the parts where you touch me feel alive.”

Claude bites harder, his hold on Dimitri’s shoulders tightens, he wants to melt with him, with Dimitri, never to let go of him again. Who gave him the right to say such things? To Claude all of the people? Who permitted him to make him feel that way? As if Dimitri enjoyed his touches, desired them?

Not Claude, oh no, not him, “Open your mouth,” he tells him, his thumb on his lower lip, tongue out. Dimitri obeys him, he’s shy at first when Claude invades him, his tongue melting and exploring a place none has had the chance to visit yet, but he soon moans into Claude’s mouth. This is bliss. This is miles away from what he would have imagined, he had never even dreamed of something so good. Kissing Dimitri takes all his worries away, and perhaps it is the same with his voices, perhaps they heal each other, perhaps this is what love really feels like.

Claude is breathless when they part, and glad to see Dimitri’s state is no better; his eyes are still dark but shining, his cheeks redder than they have ever been, his lips swollen already. He loves the sight of him this way. He adores it. He adores him.

As he straightens his back to take off his jacket Dimitri whines at the loss, “Claude, come back here,” he says, and grasps his waist and his mouth sucks on his neck, Claude feels his head spin, worse than before, and as much as he would want this effect to be blamed on Dimitri, his hands and mouth alone, something tells him it’s not all, that his blood is poisoned and his mind soon to be taken into Morpheus’ arms.

They lie down on the bed, Dimitri’s back hitting some books – he doesn’t bother, says he doesn’t even feel them – while Claude finishes to undress, his chest now bare, and hands on Dimitri’s tunic.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Dimitri teases, a bit embarrassed; he’s hushed with a kiss.

“Aren’t you?”

It appears Dimitri, as enthusiastic as he might be with the prospect of discovery every inch of Claude’s body, is and has always been hermetic to anything remotely sensual, and the art of intercourse has, in fact, and to Claude’s surprised, never been taught to him except from what Sylvain had wanted to share with him rather recently. He slows down.

“If it is not what you want, we can stop here.” Claude tells him, no matter how the ache in his groin yells not to, he’s not stupid enough to know Dimitri is only going along because of one of his experiments, and the same can be said for him actually, never without the self-restrain he would have dared to even touch Dimitri like that.

“No, it’s not but, I don’t really know what I want.” Dimitri closes his eyes, he’s exhausted, he probably needs to sleep more than anything else since Claude himself feels his thoughts are getting foggy. His sight is getting blurry on his sides. “Tell me what you want Claude.”

“Oh, this is,” he lies on his chest, his hand playing with his tunic and undoing the laces, “a really dangerous subject to address at this hour of the night. Do you really want to know the fantasies in my head you are the hero of?”

“I do.”

Claude adjusts his head on Dimitri’s shoulder, even from there he can hear his heartbeat, it’s fast and strong, yet oddly smoothing. “I’ve been dreaming about you for a while now, for the very first moon we arrived at Garreg Mach.” Damn these potions, he had sworn never to reveal this information. “Of your body, your eyes, your powerful hands on me.” Claude closes his eyes, he hears Dimitri hums and takes it as an approbation. “Those hands which could break anything into two, I wondered what they would do to me if they were to bend me over your desk. Would they leave marks on my hips? On my skin? I wish they would. I want your bruises on me. I want you so much it aches. I want you inside me, harsh, strong, maddening thrusting into me until I cannot walk for days.”

He stops there, afraid he let his mouth wander in a territory Dimitri is obvious too prude to follow, not so soon at least, but Goddess does it feel good to finally have it out of his chest, and to realize perhaps some truth even he was too shy to face.

“What is it that you just spoke, that beautiful language?” Dimitri asks, then yawns. What does he mean, beautiful language? “I’ve heard the sonority before, a song I’ve heard in the past, it sounds like one of the Eastern countries.”

Claude’s eyes widen, panicking.

Did he really say all those things in Almyrian?

He wants to stand on his elbow to watch Dimitri in the face, to try to guess what runs inside his mind but he can’t; he’s too tired, they’re both so tired and he can’t feel his limbs anymore. “If I should have a guess, I’d say- “No Dimitri, don’t say anything, don’t, don’t _please don’t_ , “you just spoke Alm-“

There is no explanation to where this herculean force comes from, perhaps from who he is at his core, the survival instinct that fights every day to maintain his farce alive, but Claude manages to kiss Dimitri before the forbidden word escapes his lips, barely on time, and everything else vanishes in a blur. Before his conscience leaves him, Claude thinks he hears Dimitri say, “Why did you stop?” or something of the sort and wonders how he could handle it so well.

* * *

Of course, he dreams of Dimitri, as if it could have been otherwise with his body solid under his hands and his face so close to his chest. Except it doesn’t look like him, or them; Dimitri is taller, his hair is longer and he’s missing an eye, and his black tunic has turned into an armour darker than the depth of the night. He’s got a long coat with fur that makes him look even bigger, tougher, as if nothing could reach him, powerful, scary, unapproachable.

Undeniably beautiful.

The blood on his face and hands isn’t. Claude has some on his clothes and gloves as well, a drip falls from his face to the ground, a ground he knows and used to adore where he once rolled on top of Dimitri and took his dagger out of his boots. Gronder field hasn’t changed with the years, unlike them.

“It’s done, there’s no one else Claude.” Dimitri talks with a voice he doesn’t recognize. It’s harsh and dark and rough, where has the politeness gone? He extends a hand. “Come to me my love. I’ve taken care of everyone who could have harmed us for who we are.”

Claude takes his hand, it’s slippery due to the blood, but both have the same amount on them. They’re soaking. The smell reaches his nose, he wants to puke.

He doesn’t though, because Dimitri takes him in his arms, and even if the armour hits his bones the pain does not last, only the warmth of his embrace does and Claude then realizes how tired he is, of fighting, of this massacre, when he only longs for a pair of arms to dive into. He just wants to be Claude, held by just Dimitri, and nothing else; their titles, their crests, their destinies matter not next to the happiness he finds in the arms of the one he loves above all else.

“I took them down, all of them, for you my love. Even the Almyrian’s army.” Claude freezes against his chest at the mention of this impossible truth. “You have nothing to worry about now. There is no throne awaiting us. There’s no more Alliance, Kingdom or Empire, no one in Fódlan and beyond stands but you and I my love. No one will stop us.”

With his kisses Dimitri brings the taste of blood from their enemies, mixing with their own, yet in between all this atrocity Claude can distinguish the taste of his tongue and how much he’d missed it, so much that now that he can, finally, kiss his beloved he feels like breathing again. He lets Dimitri hold him tight, never letting him go, leans on him entirely as he tiptoes to meet his lips again, his arms curl behind his neck and he whines, he groans, even if they look like beasts directly taken out of Hell, for Claude this short moment of bliss after the battle is the closest thing he’d lived to what Heavens must feel like.

“…Claude…you…betrayed…us…”

Claude comes back to solid ground, leaving the warmth of Dimtiri’s lips. Afraid he knows who the voice belongs to, he turns around, or tries to – Dimitri holds his chin tightly. “Don’t listen to the voice of the dead. You’ve taught me to ignore them.”

“…Claude I thought…we were…the best of friends…”

A shiver of terror runs down his spine when Claude witnesses, powerless, Hilda’s body under a pile of corpses, a lance he recognizes as Dimitri’s through her chest. There’s blood coming out of her mouth and nose, the hand she extends to reach for him is covered with some as well but that is not all. The corpses aren’t faceless, they are all of his friends’, their friends, Ignaz, Marianne, Leonie, Lorenz, Ashes, Linhardt, Annette, Sylvain, Caspar, Petra, Hubert, Felix and on top of them, with her head rolling on the ground to their feet, Edelgard and her long hair that aren’t so white anymore.

“They never accepted you, the moment they knew about your origins they fought against you. Holst tried to kill you at least a dozen times before you allowed me to take care of him.”

“You…betrayed us…” Hilda chokes. No, not Hilda, she would never-

“And my own people never accepted that I joined hand with an outsider like you. I had no other choice but to dispose of them as well. But now, everything is alright. It’s alright Claude. No one is going to harm you anymore.” Dimitri pulls him into a hug and kisses the top of his head. “I’ll protect you, from anything, always.”

She cries. Of all the people it had to be her. Claude can’t take it, his heart is breaking, this burden is just too heavy to bear.

“I loved you Claude…How could you do this to me?” She cries, and only now he sees the arrow that hit her side, where most of her blood comes from.

“No!” he shouts, he tries to get away from Dimitri’s grip to save her, but he lacks the strength, “No I will never, I can never harm you! I didn’t- “

But her hand falls flat on the ground, along with her last breath. She’s dead. All their friends are dead.

And Dimitri, he realizes, the Dimitri he loves is dead too, his back pierced with arrows from both side, his face covered with his own blood, he falls on his knee and the earth cracks at the impact.

Claude opens his eyes.

He’s still highly disorientated; this has been his worst nightmare by far, and the first where he remains the sole survivor, which is the cruellest his wild imagination gave him to experienced so far. The image of his friends, dead, is so vivid he has to stare at something, anything to make the print go away – his desk, his chair, his books, anything that is common can do, will do. He breathes in and out slowly, his vision becoming more and more clear each minute, the scent of blood replaced by something more pleasant. It is still a bit early; the birds sing outside his window and the light coming through is cold and bright. What is warm, on the other hand, is the body that lies under Claude’s cheek, the chest that lifts with a regular yet not that slow rhythm, indicating the person it belongs to is as much asleep as Claude is. And perhaps it is the worst time to realize they haven’t moved since they fell asleep on each other last night, with Claude half naked on top of Dimitri, one of his hand on his chest and the other under his pillow where it is currently holding his dagger. If Claude has taken some sort of liberty in his sleep, with his legs tangled with Dimitri’s and a hand buried inside his tunic – he drooled, too, but let’s forget about that for a second – the same can’t be said for the person under his weight, whose arms are rigidified at his side and his head facing the ceiling, blue eyes unblinking.

Claude moves, so subtly, trying to read his face; he’s happy to see the headache is gone but as the vivid images of his dream fade away others take their place, delightful but also terrifying, explaining the unexpected presence of the Prince of Faerghus in his bed.

“Claude, you’re awake?” Dimitri says, his voice not very sure of himself - embarrassed and flustered, if he had to guess. Claude can’t believe yesterday happened at all. All the things he told him, all the things he heard, the things they _did_ \- “Could you, perhaps, enlighten me as for why I find myself in your room at daybreak?”

Oh, so, the recollection of their night might be one sided. How much Dimitri recalls? How long has he been awake? Did he see the dagger, remember what language Claude spoke, what if he knows he’s from Almyra and tells everybody?

_“Claude…you betrayed us…”_

His guts act for him. In an instant, Claude has put his jacket on and runs to his door, “Wait, Claude! Don’t run-“ Claude shuts the door behind him and rushes to the entrance, ignoring the scattered gazes he gets from the few people already up at this hour, and knocks on the door.

Hilda opens, still in her night robes, yawning. She’s perfect, she’s precious, she’s alive. “Whadizit Claude?” He holds her in his arms and closes the door with his foot. He’ll never let her go.

After a moment where both remain silent, Hilda carefully pats his back. “You okay?”

He’s not. He’s really not.

He’s about to reply when he hears them, Dimitri’s boots, he’s coming their way. “You need to hide me.” He hushes and hides against the door so that Dimitri wouldn’t see him unless Hilda lets him in – she won’t, he knows this, this is the best hiding place.

And Dimitri never disappoints; he knocks on the door. “Hilda? May I please speak with you for a second?”

Her sleepy eyes watch over Claude, sitting on the floor, who promises he will explain later; it’s enough to convince her – she’s his best friend after all, there is nothing she wouldn’t do for him – and she opens the door with a very convincing yawn. “Oh, Dimitri, good morning!” She stirs. Claude brings his knees to his chest, hoping Dimitri won’t notice he’s here. He can barely handle hearing his voice. “What can I do for you?”

“Have you seen Claude?”

“Hm, no? Why would I know about his whereabouts so early in the morning? Oh! You don’t imply that we…”

“No! Of course not! Please, forgive my rudeness.” Claude can hear he speaks quicker than usual, he panics as well. “I didn’t want to imply there was something sentimental going on between you two. But, tell me if I’m wrong, you’re one of his closest friends, am I correct?”

“I’m his best friend.” She says proudly.

“So you’re more likely to see him first today. When you do, please, tell him I’m looking for him, and that the matter is rather urgent.”

“Oh, what is it about?”

Claude pinches on her calf, Goddess Hilda, tell him what he wants to hear and shove him away!

“I’m afraid I can’t share this trivia with you. This is rather confidential, and he’ll know which matter I want to address for sure.”

“Oh no! Did you two have a fight?” She asks then, ignoring Claude’s silent warning and assaults on her legs.

“Ah, hm, no,” Hilda shakes her leg, is she trying to tell him something? “Please, just tell him I’m looking for him.”

“What if you had a fight and he doesn’t want to see you?”

There’s a pose, and Dimitri takes a step into Hilda’s room. Claude grasps her ankle. “I’m not hiding him in my cupboard if that’s what you were aiming for.” She scolds him.

Hilda, scolding a Prince, Holst would be so proud.

“Sorry for the sudden interruption but as I told you before this is rather urgent.” Claude can hear the irritation that grows in his voice. “I can only hope you will do everything in your power to convey my worries to him.”

“Of course I will, I can’t stand seeing you in such distress.” She says, pushing him back to her door gently, and Claude breathes again, “But you know as well as I do that if Claude doesn’t want to be found there’s nothing I can do for you. He’ll find you when he wants to.”

“Fine. If I need to address an official summoning to house Riegan, with the seal of my family on it, then I will! Claude won’t be able to escape me for long, I am Royalty!” He shouts, arousing curiosity from the rest of the students passing by, before leaving Hilda in a rush.

Claude listens to the pace of his boots leaving the dorms, his heartbeat slowing down which each step he takes to ground level. He lets his head rest on the wall and closes his eyes, until Hilda kneels next to him.

“Now Claude, what was that all about?” He takes her hand in his, he doesn’t reply. “Claude? Did you really have a fight with your favourite Royal boy last night? And why are you half naked?”

Her hand is warm, rosy, freed from blood. If his fingers were to go to her inner wrist, they could find her pulse, it’s beating. “Can we just stay silent for a moment?”

Hilda doesn’t say anything – she frowns for sure, but from the look in his eyes and his insistent grip on her hand, she understands she shall not push him, not now, not before she answers his plead. She sits next to him, hugs him with her arm and Claude rests his head on her shoulder.

They stay like this for almost an hour.

It is the time he needs to reorganize his thoughts. Edelgard comes first, Arundel, and in the end they haven’t discovered who was really behind all the tragedies the Kingdom had suffered from. Then comes Dimitri, his words, his hands on him, the voices that live with him and ask him for revenge. The dead from Duscur, who never left him, whom Claude chases with his smile and presence only. He’ll never be able to look at him in the eyes the same way he usually does now, not after everything he had heard. Then comes Claude, what he did, was he almost said, what he feels deep down, the part of him he revealed.

Finally comes Hilda, dead by their hands.

“Tell me, do you remember when Teach searched in my room? The vials, you emptied them in the sugar pot, right?”

Hilda nods slowly. “Why? I had to do something, it would have left traces if I had emptied them anywhere else.” This was indeed true but lead them to open another treasure box Claude would have rather left tightly closed. “You told me you never use it anyway so…Oh, no, don’t tell me- “

“Let’s say it was an interesting mixture.”

“Oh, tell me nothing weird happened. Please! I feel terrible!”

Claude keeps most of what happens to himself, because even if the aftermath is terrible in every sense there are memories he’ll cherish until his feelings for Dimitri dissolve with others, words he’ll remember until he cannot think anymore; but he owes her some crusty details, because she saved him, once more.

“You kissed?! No way! So you asked him out!”

“No I didn’t, and it will never happen again trust me.” Now it’s his turn to save her, and save everyone, “We were high, and I’m not even sure he remembers it at all.”

“This is perhaps the urgent matter he wanted to talk to you about.”

“No way, how did you guess?”

She punches the top of his head. “You’re impossible.”

After Hilda secures his escape route, Claude runs back to his room to meet with the mess they made last night. The teacups are still on his desk, there’s still the shape of Dimitri’s body printed on his sheets and his gantlets on the floor. Claude takes them; he’s not sure he can meet him today.

Just how much does he remember?

His own words of love? Claude can handle them. He can fake he doesn’t remind them, everything would be so much easier that way after all.

But the words of lust, those Claude carelessly pronounced in Almyrian? This is what scared him the most. Dimitri has seen the dagger from close before, and he’s a Prince he has been educated as such, even in Almyra Claude knew what a painting from Fódlan looked like. Clever as he is Dimitri will put two and two together and discover his secret, and he’ll hate to blackmail Dimitri into revealing the one he trusted him with in order to survive, or to drop everything to fly back to Almyra.

But he’ll do it, if he has no other choice. He’ll do it. He’ll survive. There is no other way of living for him.

It is cruel, Claude reflects, that he could figure out which piece he was willing to sacrifice only when painted against a corner. Now he sees the game from above and all the possible consequences, some he has no control of – Edelgard, Dimitri, what would they do in the future? – and all his actions are minded, thoughtful. He could have had everything he wanted - _‘You got me. You have me,_ ’ - if only he would take it, he could be the happiest man in the world.

But the vision will never leave him. The eventuality of losing his closed one, by his fault, by his hands, is one he cannot survive with.

Claude holds a gantlet close to his chest. “Hey, you know you got me, right?” He murmurs to them since he will never allow himself to say those words to their owner. “You have me too.”

* * *

Eventually when night comes and Claude has had a bit of time to settle things on his own, he knocks on Dimitri’s room, the gantlets in hands. He knows he’s there, he has followed his moves all day from the roofs, witnessed how bad he has been looking for him and it broke something in his heart. Dimitri opens hastily, visibly annoyed until he sees who knocked. “Oh,” his face changes entirely when he faces him. “Claude!” He’s relieved, happy but frowns nonetheless, this much Claude can tell, “I’ve been looking for you all day.”

“Yeah, sorry I, kind of, freaked out.” He ponders every one of his words and decided long ago playing dumb is the only escape route that sounds safe enough not to ruin everything he has worked so hard for. “I thought I woke up in your room, having no memory if what had happened and ran away, for no good reason.”

“We were in your own room Claude.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t realize it until it was too late and I was standing outside like an idiot.”

Dimitri says nothing, and Claude is kind of worried he’s going to ask if he wants to come inside, which is perhaps the last thing he needs – he has no strength left in his bones to fight against Dimitri, against what he does to him. “So, here, I guess?” he hands him the gantlets.

It seems Dimitri has forgotten about them entirely. “Oh, thank you. I…remember you took them off, at some point.” He looks at the floor, his cheek rosy, “You took off my boots as well.”

Claude cheeks burn as well, he remembers what they did just after. “Oh, really?” Play dumb, play dumb, _play dumb_. “Is that all you remember?”

“I am afraid so,” Claude lets out a breath, he’s so happy he could hug him. “I mean, everything is already very foggy at this point, the only thing that is clear is when you poured me some tea. After that I have a lot of blanks, until I woke up in your bed.” With Claude on top of him, shirtless. “What about you?”

Claude is way too happy to reply and he knows it shows, but dammit, there are some joy that can’t be contained, especially when it means they won’t have to stop being friends if Claude plays this game right. “Absolutely not! The night is an entire blank! This is also why I’ve been hiding all day, I thought you had some grudge against me.”

“Ah, that is utterly…regrettable. Oh, I found this by the way, I guess it comes from…” Dimitri looks to his hair with a tiny hair tie in the palm of his hand.

“Oh right! I totally forgot!” Did it mean he went on all day with his braid undone? “Thank you for keeping it for me. I’ll- “

“Oh, no, let me.”

Dimitri takes his hair and tries – that’s the key word – to do Claude’s braid, which ends up in a total disaster. It’s rough and pokes on the side, but Claude has strangely never liked it so much.

“Sorry, it is rather ungraceful and doesn’t do your features any justice. I might do better next time.”

“Oh, there no need to be so formal about it, I’m about to go to bed after all.” And Claude is sure his heart, as well as Fódlan, wouldn’t handle a possible ‘next time’. He leans a bit closer, but not too much, he knows his limits now. “Ahem, by the way, I do recall what you told me about…her, you know.”

“Oh, you mean Edelgard?”

Claude nods. Perhaps if he mentions something so back in time, Dimitri will genuinely believe he doesn’t remember a thing. “Your secret is safe with me. I am glad I could take some of your burdens out of your shoulders.” He says quieter.

“It is true that I haven’t been able to sleep this well in…ages. Thank you for that Claude. I don’t know what you put in that tea- “

“Oh trust me, you don’t want to know.” He tells him the ugly truth, which explains their symptoms and how he got rid of it this morning so now, there won’t be a second time, Dimitri can come in his room as much as he likes without fearing to be poisoned. If they both laugh off this ridiculous situation, Claude is sure Dedue or Felix won’t agree with their carelessness, and Claude can hardly think of why or how this miracle occurred but he’s glad his neighbour hasn’t tried to kill him yet despite what happened that night.

If Claude still feels they are walking on eggs once more, he is glad that the bags under Dimitri’s eyes are indeed less prominent than last night, proving he truly slept better than any other night, and it’s with an ache in the chest that Claude wonders if his presence had a role in this, knowing perfectly there won’t be a next time to verify his hypothesis. But he is ready to suffer until the end of the year and even beyond if it means his friends and closed ones remain unharmed, and he knows he can’t protect them from all the harms the world has to offer but at least he can control the ones that come from his egoism, and those ones he shall not tolerate. Even if it means he’ll never kiss Dimitri again, or hold his hand, or feel the warmth on his palms on his face, if by sacrificing his desire he can save a couple of lives, Claude will do it, again, and again, until he cannot hold on his promise anymore.

He doesn’t avoid Dimitri after that. He would have very much preferred to, but his words linger with him all the time – _‘You make them go away.’_ – and when he thinks of his nightmare, of all their friends dead in front of him Claude can’t forget it was all too real for Dimitri, it is the tragedy he’s been through when he was so young. So of course he hears voices, of course the dead would follow him everywhere he goes, he’s the sole survivor, he’s the only one who remains, and Claude doesn’t have the strength in him to refute Dimitri of this respite, as little and insignificant as it must be. He meets him and rushes to him and smiles, his voice warm, he touches his arms, his back, his shoulders – _‘Talk to me, stay with me, touch me.’_ – and he does so just for him, to keep him happy, to keep the ghosts away from his tired face, and each minute that he spends next to him is a pure nightmare, even worse that not being able to scratch a part of skin that itches, every interactions are dull compared to lovers’ touches, to the taste of his lips, to the feeling of his hands on his hair.

The following week they celebrate the Kingdom’s birthday, but no one seems to be in their shoes; the news from Lemire village are rather disturbing, leaving even Shamir concerned and a bit scared for the future. Everyone smiles but none seems to rejoice at the delicious meals, except perhaps Raphael and Ingrid whose stomach cannot be defeated by worry. Claude watches over Dimitri. He watches him and when their eyes meet he smiles, truly, and Dimitri cannot help but grin and looks away.

He has him. Claude has him and now that he knows, it hurts.

The week after they are chatting in the Reception Hall when Teach come to them. “Dimitri, we need to go to Lemire, now.”

Panic reads on Claude’s face. Their tone is alarming, something must truly be wrong if they decide to leave this soon in the moon. “Please, Dimitri.” He holds on his wrist before they leave with the Prince, “Be careful.”

As they part, their finger brush past each other. “I will.” Dimitri says, never looking away. “I promise.”

The hours he spends waiting for the Blue Lions to return pass aguishly slowly. It’s so cold and cloudy outside Claude fears it might snow, but after all isn’t it a weather Dimitri is most accustomed with? From the ramparts he stares at the line of horizon where Lemire stands, and apart from a bit of dark smoke there is nothing that transpires but silence.

He’s surprised when he’s joined by none but Hubert. The timing is utterly disastrous, Claude barely has two neurons to share since he’s so worried about whatever might happen to Dimitri and the rest of his friends to duel with Edelgard’s right hand, in his shape he’ll probably lose to Sylvain, or even Dimitri, if they were to play chess. “Good afternoon,” Hubert says very politely, but his words hide venom, Claude can tell, “Fancy seeing you here. Could you perhaps be waiting for the Blue Lion class to return?”

“I could return the compliment. Besides, Teach was rather upset about the situation, it seems rather serious.”

“Lemire is in the Empire territory, it is rather natural that I investigate on the matter. I regret we were not asked to complete this mission.”

“Where is Edelgard by the way?”

“It is Lady Edelgard for you, Claude. She’s the future Empress, you need to address her with due respect.”

“It doesn’t tell me where our dear little Princess is.”

Hubert sends him a smile, warm enough to freeze an oasis in the Almyrian desert. “I am afraid it is none of your business. I came here in hope of finding you, actually.”

“You’re looking for a partner in crime, am I right? A chess buddy!” He adds when Hubert frowns deeper – if it’s even possible. “But I am sorry, your timing is disastrous, I have to decline your offer.”

“What offer? I don’t recall asking you for any of your services. But I must admit you were right about the reason of my presence here, and I unlike you thought the timing rather on point. But if we diverge on such trivial matter, I’m not sure we could ever get the chance to play together at all.”

Claude recognizes a threat when he sees one, “Oh, really? How bad! You see me deeply sorry, I was really looking forward to playing against you. Edelgard sang me your praises.”

“Something I am deeply honoured for. You would excuse me Claude, but if you’re of no assistance I will take my leave.”

“Are you sure there won’t be another time? I mean, you don’t seem like the type to prepare for the Heron’s Cup or the ball, we might find some time to hang out next moon, don’t you think?”

In front of such insistence Hubert seems to reconsider his words. “…Perhaps.” Is all he says yet, before he leaves the rampart. Claude waits until he’s sure no one would perturb his lonesome waiting to rely on the bricks and stares far ahead. If he’s not happy about how this conversation went, and by far, he can’t care less, for now his mind only wishes for Dimitri to return safely. The rest is superfluous.

A couple of hours later he counts and yes, all the Blue Lions have returned safe and sound and with all of their limbs. His chest already feels lighter, but his fingers are numb, for Claude had stayed in the cold for too long. He comes back inside and warms himself in the dining hall as Ferdinand and Lorenz are on cooking duty. They offer him some tea and for some reason, the absolute perfection of its infusion gives him the false idea that the day has given its whole lot of surprise, and cannot go worse, or better, for what it’s worth.

Felix proves him wrong the moment he walks back to the dorms.

“You heard him! You all heard him and you still deny it!”

“Don’t you think you’re a bit harsh? What we saw in Lemire, it was really horrible.” Sylvain tries to calm him down, his voice as carefree as ever, “Anyone could have snapped. After all, we have no idea of what he went through in Duscur.”

“Stop giving him an excuse! He’s just a beast underneath, and nothing more! ‘ _Kill them all! Don’t let a single one of them escape! Sever their limbs and crush their wicked skulls!_ ’” he shouts at Sylvain’s face, out of himself, “Are there words suited for a King to you?”

Behind them Claude gasps, Felix turns around, and laughs. “You. Right on time hn, as always.” He walks to him and shoves him against the wall, his arm on his chest. “Don’t pretend to be chocked. If you can’t handle the boar then I’m going to repeat it, again, but that would be the last time. Stay out of our way!”

“Felix,” Sylvain grasps his shoulder, he looks concerned, “Please, this is not necessary.”

“What? Better not give him false hopes, right? You’re like them, all of them, you fall for the princely act, but you have no idea of who he is underneath! I’m the only one who know him from top to bottom! I’ve known him since we were kids! And you? How long have you known him, or be his friends as you pretend, or whatever you want to be to him? Half a year barely!”

Claude can’t say a thing. Because, first of all Felix is right and second, he’s sure he heard Dimitri’s boots hitting on the floor, he recognized his pace and he’s doomed to arrive. How funny still that the truth, the cracks he’s been looking for from the very beginning were always so close to him, he just had to knock next door to have them, the ugly truth, Dimitri’s darkest secret and yet, now that Felix gives them to him when not asked, Claude can’t care less.

He knows now. He understands. The voices.

Felix eventually releases him when he finds out Claude has no pretty word for his defence and disappears into his room.

“Hey, you okay?”

Claude looks up to Sylvain, still a bit stunned. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Just what happened in Lemire?”

Sylvain takes a deep breath then sighs, searching for the right words. “Not tonight. This was just too horrible.”

And for Sylvain to say such a thing, after he had to kill his own brother a few moons prior, speaks of nothing but the horror they had all gone through once more. Why on Earth would the Archbishop do that to them, to Dimitri? Throwing him in difficult situations, in real battles when he is still recovering from his wounds, his crack fully opened to the world?

“Oh,” Claude hears it too, someone sucked on a breath, “Your Highness.”

Dimitri stands before them with his fists curled and eyes on the ground, Claude wonders how much he has heard, Felix wasn’t really subtle, has never been, but these are words he once heard from him.

He walks past them to his room, “Dimitri…” Claude tries to catch his hand but Dimitri shoves his arm away. He shuts the door behind him.

“They used to be best friend,” Sylvain says after a while, where none of them have dared to move, “when they were kids. They were always training together with Glenn.”

When they were kids. Before Duscur. When Glenn was alive.

Before Felix saw him slaughter their enemies, ruled by the voices of the dead. When his childhood friend became the boar.

Claude lies down on his bed with his chest filled with a sadness that he can’t quite define. Dimitri’s friendship with the four of them isn’t something he has a word to say about, or care, or perhaps he had none until tonight. How horrible it must have been for Dimitri, who had everything from the start – family, friends, he had Edelgard, his parents, Glenn – and got it taken away from him in one night, and how awful it must have been for Felix to lose not only his brother but his friend, lost to madness after the tragedy. Claude, who has never had much to begin with, or who had never lost the most important things – the love from his parents he will always have and he knows it, even if at times it is difficult to remember, the dagger he never goes out without reminds him at all time – will perhaps never understand what they had all gone through, or the ties that bind them, and this is what Felix seemed to hurl about. This was just unfair, a real tragedy they usually read in books, and it is more frustrating than ever that they have not found any proof to accuse Lord Arundel of this most perfect scheme, or any information about the Death Knight whereabouts or the Flame Emperor.

He finds himself incapable of sleeping that night. He thinks of Felix, of Sylvain, of Glenn. He thinks of Dimitri, always.

There’s a knock on his door.

Claude opens his eyes and rolls on the side facing the entrance. He can see from there, thanks to the moonlight, the shadow of two feet underneath the door indeed. The soft knocks, renewed, truly are for him. He walks to the door and halts, his hand about to take the door handle, because he feels he knows who he might find if he opens it, and he’s not sure he wants to. Has he got enough strength in him for another night interview?

There’s a third knock, even quieter, his name is still not spoken. They are shy, so is Claude.

But when the feet walk away and his chest burns with shame and sorrow, Claude finds out his resolve is half as strong as he would want it to be. As he looks for who might be standing in the corridor his eyes fall on Dimitri’s back, wearing his blue pyjama. He’s holding his pillow. His steps halt, he turns around. He walks back to the door and watches at anything but Claude.

After a moment of harrowing silence, he speaks, “Can I…” his voice is barely a murmur at this point, and if Claude had not been utterly devoted to hearing him he would have missed it. Claude lets him in, his hands tremble at his side; he doesn’t know what to expect, he’s scared, thrilled, excited and positively frightened as for why Dimitri decided to seek for him in the middle of the night. His heart hammers in his chest, he’s fairly sure even Dimitri can hear it.

His eyes are low, dark, red, he’s exhausted, he can’t sleep that’s why he’s there. The voice. They won’t leave him alone. Not after what happened in Lemire, not after what Felix said and Dimitri heard.

“Can I sleep with you?”

It doesn’t come as a surprise, honestly, it’s as if the moment Claude heard the first knock he had known – wanted, even? He doesn’t reply, feeling the moment is too fragile for anything unnecessary like words when Dimitri craves for action. Claude takes his hand and guides him to his bed. Dimitri doesn’t thank him, he takes.

Claude sits first, pulls Dimitri to his lap when he climbs on the bed. He wonders if they’re going to kiss, but Dimitri seems to have a perfect platonic plan as he lies next to him and tries awfully hard not to have any skin contact, his head on his pillow. He’s on his back, and Claude watches him for long minutes where the silence is so thick and uncomfortable none of them can close an eye. This is not what Claude wants, of course he wants more, and he knows he shouldn’t, has no right to but somehow, it seems Dimitri isn’t satisfied as well with the situation he puts them into. He wants more too.

Talk to me, stay with me, touch me.

Claude extends a hand. Alerted by the rush of sheets, Dimitri turns his head, then rolls on his side. He doesn’t take it though, but he glances back at Claude, his tired eyes unblinking for what seems to be an eternity before he acts, and moves closer than Claude would have dreamed of, almost causing a heart attack to his one night host in the process as he crawls on top of Claude and rests his head on his chest where his heart lies underneath.

Claude holds his breath. This was unexpected but not unwelcomed, until he figures out Dimitri can hear how fast his heart is beating, and there is no way he won’t know then, what his hidden feelings are, all the things Dimitri does to him and his charming smile hides. The heart can’t lie when it’s beating so fast.

The role are reversed as Dimitri makes himself comfortable, his arm circling Claude, holding him, his knee finding a place between Claude’s legs when Claude himself has turned rigid, his arms immobile and eyes glued to the ceiling, trying to gather any strength left to remain in control of the situation. How easy it would be then, to run a hand on Dimitri’s muscular back, up and down, to his sides, to his neck and hair, and who would be surprised if Claude’s hands were to travel even lower and grasp his bottoms as he often dreamed of? Dimitri can’t be that blind, can he? He can’t have no idea of the effect he has on Claude; he is so obvious, someone probably told him already and he knocks on his door in the middle of the night and climbs on his bed and hugs him so tight; he wants this, right? Just how much as Claude craves for his touch. He could hold him back and whispers his name, and Dimitri would look back at him and find his eyes even in the darkness, he would raise on his elbow and look for his lips and Claude would meet him halfway, and they heart would beat in sync. None of it would be surprising for both of them. None of it, Claude thinks bitterly.

Yet Dimitri needs sleep more than anything else, and after a while his breathing has slowed down. Only then does Claude risk to put his arm around his waist, and sleep comes quickly after that.

The morning light awakes him too soon.

Dimitri hasn’t moved a single inch; he still sleeps soundlessly in his arms like a baby. What time is it? Perhaps he should wake him up, they’re going to be late for class after all. It would be bad if someone were to look for the Prince everywhere to find him here, in a most compromising position with the heir of the Leicester Alliance.

Misfortune brings Lysithea to his room, “Claude! Hanneman is- _iiiiiiek!”_

Claude laughs and raises his eyes to the Heavens. He’s not surprised when Hilda comes second. She looks utterly blissful, making a very embarrassing victory dance for him. He hushes her.

“This isn’t exactly as exciting as it looks like I’m afraid.” He whispers, she sits next to his bed. “We just slept.”

“Everyone is looking for him,” she whispers back, her eyes on the Prince’s face. “He’s actually kind of cute like this. How did you manage to lure him in your bed once more? Drugs?”

“He came to me on his own. I think he’s exhausted.”

“Shouldn’t we wake him up before other people put two and two together? You’ve been missing for a couple of hours too.”

But Claude can’t let him go. Dimitri has rarely looked more serene.

“Tell Sylvain he’s here. He’ll think of something. As for me…” Claude’s hand runs in blond locks, his nails scratching his skull, “Food poisoning sounds good enough. Perhaps you can hint I poisoned myself with one of my experiment.”

“Sounds legit.”

“Of course it does.”

She would have punch him for this if it weren’t for Dimitri’s presence and the treasure that his sleep seems to Claude. She leaves them alone, leaves Claude to face his demons, his wants and hopes for the future reduced into dust by the mere presence of a body on top of him

He never wants Dimitri to wake up. What are they going to talk about when he does?

Little does he know that, on his desk the list of pros/cons still lies, and has been for a while. On the con’s column the words _‘Dimitri will never like me back?’_ have changed to ‘ _Dimitri ~~will never~~ likeS me back ~~?~~_ ’ without his knowledge, by an unknown intruder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trust me, you have no idea of how much these boys tire me


	12. Etherian Moon : Before the Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Claude uses his cape to clean the mud from his face while Dimitri holds his above both their head to protect them from the icy rain. Claude sneezes.  
> “What?” Has he dreamed this? Did Dimitri just laugh?  
> “Nothing.”  
> “Tell me!”  
> Dimitri looks away, he smiles, “I’d never thought your sneeze would sound like that.”  
> “Like what?” He shouldn’t ask. He knows it. He won’t like the answer, because he likes the face Dimitri makes too much.  
> “Well, how could I say…cute? No, not really.” Claude wants to run away already, and the worse is yet to come. “The only word that comes to my mind is endearing, but perhaps it is a bit much, for a sneeze at least.”  
> “And I’m glad we agree on that.”  
> “Perhaps I couldn’t find any other words because I can’t think of anything but you.”  
> Claude’s smile disappears from his face. Has he hit his head so bad in his fall to imagine such nonsense? Is he dreaming? “What?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, like a vital reflex he had to say something because it cannot be real, this can’t be happening and especially not now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're insomniac, rejoice, this chapter is 17k. (you can thank the twitter poll for that, yes, I did one, and lost.)  
> If you want to cut the reading in two, you can stop after the White Heron Cup, that's approximately 10k.
> 
> if I'm not mistaken, this monster fic is officially 100k ! Happy 100k to my baby ! Mom is proud.
> 
> Also I'd like to thank [Zack](https://twitter.com/hyaenaz) who so kindly [drew a fanart from this chapter](https://twitter.com/hyaenaz/status/1279134200147464194?s=20) !  
> 

* * *

#### Etherian Moon

.

#### Before the Ball

* * *

Etherian Moon and its first snow, the White Heron Cup and the upcoming ball divide the students living at Garreg Mach in two factions: those who rejoice, finally having something fun and expected of their teenage years to look forward to and the others, who question the Monastery’s mind as they schedule such a frivolous event after so many tragedies occurred in the past moons. None would have suspected Tomas, old Tomas, deaf Tomas to be a traitor, and most importantly a dark mage working for the Flame Emperor– even if Teach said that they swore not to be working with him on all occasions and despised the tragedy in Lemire as much as they all did, they couldn’t trust someone who had caused so much sorrow in their rank. More mysteries arise, like the exact content of Flayn’s blood and its possible power, but the girl is not easy to find these days, and they all suspect Seteth has somehow urged her to be very discreet after Tomas’s, no, Solon’s claim on her.

If most of his friends have already decided which camp they belong to, Claude sits in the middle, not caring at all about the ball or anything related to their mission to reconstruct Lemire, as his worries and reflexions settle elsewhere. Hilda doesn’t even dare to ask why he’s so tired, so exhausted he barely listens to their classes, or even misses his daily training, forgetting the promise he made to Ashe to teach him a few of his trick.

It’s Dimitri. It’s always Dimitri these days, he can’t get him out of his head, and the very rare times he manages that exploit the Prince comes back by a hidden door, in his dreams or in the Refectory, or when his name is spoken by someone else’s lips. Claude is trapped in his own maze, and the journey could have been the most pleasant one if it weren’t from the frustration, the yearning, the lack of understanding Dimitri gives him.

He comes to him at night, or at least he used to. He came three times already, tonight’s the fourth.

The first time they woke up in each other’s arms – well, second time actually, but it was the first when they consciously chose to sleep in that most compromising position – had been utterly embarrassing. As expected, Dimitri barely said anything, or moved even when awake and Claude had been for hours, before he opened his eyes and realized what he had done during the night. Claude thought mindlessly Dimitri had done such on a whim, or that perhaps his body remembered the warmth of his chest and sought for it again, the comfort of another body simply holding him like no one else did or had done in so long; Claude thought Dimitri did it by mistake, and the way he went back to his room with his pillow in hand, his tail between his legs, not even spending a gaze and barely saying ‘hello’ and ‘yes I slept well’ were supposed to prove his point forever. But he came back, a couple of night after, the first day of Etherian moon Claude heard a knock on his door when the moon was way up in the sky and Dimitri stood behind, his forehead fell on his shoulder as he begged, ‘please’, and of course how could Claude refuse him anything?

They weren’t so shy about it, at least not after the first tries. Dimitri came two days later without his pillow and crawled on Claude, an arm around his back and Claude did the same, and when he was sure Dimitri was asleep he kissed the top of his head, whispered “Goodnight Dimitri,” closing his eyes as well.

They don’t speak. They never speak when Dimitri comes this late. It’s like an unspoken absolute rule, and when they see each other in the light of the Monastery they don’t mention these moments either. It’s all smiles and polite bows and nice chitchats just like before, except that for some reasons Claude has a tougher time faking them. Be it with Dimitri, or the Blue Lions, or even his friends at the Golden Deer house, he gets on nerves easily, which is something utterly out of character. Hilda sees, but she doesn’t say anything, which is perhaps what gives him the first clue that there’s something wrong he needs to address.

The second comes at the end of the first week of Etherian Moon, after a long night spent together in the Library looking for clues about Solon, a possible thread leading them to Lord Arundel or the Flame Emperor, or the group of individuals leading them. As Hanneman chasses them back to the dorms they both decide to pursue their research in Claude’s room, until they both yawn more than talk and their eyes itch with tiredness. As Dimitri raises to his feet Claude watches him and thinks that a couple of weeks ago he would have asked him to stay, because why leaving now if it’s to come back in a couple of hours after all? They’re big boys, they know what they want, what they need, don’t they?

If it’s rather evident Dimitri does not, in fact, have any clear idea of what he’s doing, it takes this short moment of hesitation for Claude to realize it’s the same for him. He bites on his lower lip, his fist closed at his side, but he cannot reach. Dimitri stands awkwardly in his uniform in the middle of his room and it’s like he’s waiting for an invitation to stay that Claude can’t give him, yet one word, one more ‘please’ and he’ll surrender. But it’s so difficult to act when he has no idea of what comes and goes in Dimitri’s mind.

And just like that the spell breaks. Claude awaits the knock on his door each night, but it never comes.

“Claude.” He’s taking a nap in his room, which never happens – in trees, yes, but never here – and Hilda startled him awake. “Talk to me.”

He doesn’t look at her. His eyes are lost on the ceiling. “Do you think he’s using me?”

Hilda could have laughed, for this is kind of hilarious coming from him, ironic even. “For what?”

“I don’t know.” Did he turn into a Royal Pillow? A powerful sleeping pill? A cure to his inner demons screaming atrocities, which he then shouts to his enemies? “He’s stopped coming.”

He told her about the nocturnal visits of course, he tells her everything.

“I stay awake all night waiting for him,” he admits, Hilda takes his hand, “Just in case he needs me, I don’t want to miss his knocks because what if I don’t hear them and he can’t sleep because he needs me?”

“Claude, you should think of yourself first.” She says softly, and he knows she’s right, there is just something wrong with him that he can’t quite pinpoint.

It takes him, them, some time to analyse his feelings, part of them of course he knows are born from his fondness for Dimitri, the attachment he has and that doesn’t seem to go away despite his desperate tries; but some are less chivalrous and honourable, Claude realizes, some have more to do with pride and vanity, as he thought he had managed to be essential to Dimitri’s wellbeing, lured himself in believing so when he was, in fact, not that vital, and if the fall has been dangerous but fantastic, the landing is on the other hand the most painful he has experienced so far, when it is clear his conjecture were just a trick from his imagination, something he wished for dearly but never occurred in their reality.

Every day Dimitri proves him right on his bitter guess, he speaks and walks as if nothing has happened, as if he doesn’t miss the warmth of his embrace, as if he never spoke those words.

_‘You have me, you got me.’_

Claude wants nothing more than to grasp his shoulders and shake him back to his sense, hurl him against a wall and punch his so damn pretty face and princely smile to make him crack under his fist, just as badly as Claude is cracking right now due to his avoidance. The worst of it is probably that this exasperation, which he rarely felt before, is just as intense as his feelings for Dimitri, and it’s something his mind has troubled to admit. He needs to punch on something, to let it all out – can the longing go away as well?

“Hey, Raphael! Teach me one of your punch.” He asks.

Worst decision ever.

Claude sits in the infirmary only half an hour later, several bones from his right hand broken. He dearly hopes the nurse will do another miracle, otherwise he won’t be able to use his bow anymore. When he thought the day couldn’t get any worse, half the Blue Lion’s class storm into the room, Ingrid and Dimitri holding Sylvain who bleeds rather abundantly from his leg. He’s got wounded while training with Felix it seems, if not then how to explain his absence?

This means he will be taken care of later, of course, and that fatally Dimitri saw him; once he’s sure his classmate is in good hands, he walks to him.

“Claude! Are you hurt?”

And he has the nerve to appear concerned! He walks in his comfort zone and sit next to him, holding his hand.

“Oh, I recognize that sort of fractures…”

It’s probably called the stupid fracture, Claude wants to say, because only someone stupid enough to punch a wall – or, more precisely, Raphael’s abs – with all he’s got without any experience in melee would get this kind of self-inflicted wound. Claude jolts his hand away when Dimitri touches it, it’s as much a survival reflex than to ease the pain, the burning ache that spread where their fingers touched, and Claude has never hated his body so much for being so honest when he wished to be unreadable.

“Oh, hum, sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you more than you already are, or to be intrusive.” He says, his voice less assured, Claude likes that change. “May I ask the reason behind such an unusual behaviour?”

“Unusual behaviour?” Is he joking? Who’s the one doing weird things at nights and doesn’t take his responsibility when day comes?

“Doing reckless things like this…” Dimitri watches over his hand, his eyes follow his arm and halt on his face. “It doesn’t look like yourself. The Claude I know thinks of every consequence before making a move and never takes a route if there’s no victory waiting for him at the end of the day. You must be very unwell to hurt your dominant hand so badly.”

A nurse finally comes to his side and heals his fist. Claude shakes it after she leaves, the pain is gone.

“Claude, if there’s something bothering you- “

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

Dimitri holds his wrist before Claude can escape. “You’re visibly not.”

Felix chooses this moment to enter the room. He sees them, makes an intimidating face, and walks to Sylvain. Dimitri goes on when he’s out of their sight.

“I too feel like that at times. When it happens, I often find solace in a long horse ride, the hours spent in the wild are a real healing for such a conflicted mood. The weather might be cold but otherwise it is utterly perfect for this kind of activity.” Dimitri stands up, offering a hand. “Would you join me? I am sure it will do you good.”

“No thank you.” The words are out so soon after the proposition is made that Dimitri can’t hide his deception. Good, be sad, he deserves it. “If I need to unwind, I’ll fly on my wyvern.”

“Claude, please, I would be very thankful that you accept my offer, for there is something I wish to speak with you.”

There are a couple of come backs he had thought about for days and nights, waiting for him, that would fall rather on point, from something sophisticated to the more immature ‘Ah! Too late for that!’, but as delightful their elaboration has been these past few days, Claude finds out they no longer hold any savour now that he has Dimitri in the palm on his hand, his still offered to him and which he’s about to refuse once more.

“Maybe later?” He tries to sound carefree, not bitter at least, he can’t be the only one who misses their nights together, their kisses, their touches, what runs behind your mind Dimitri? Why have you done this all for? What have you done to me? “I promised Hilda we’ll practice dancing for the ball.”

Dimitri’s hand falls on his side.

“Oh.” Is all he says for a while, and there’s something on his face, something dark and painful in his eyes Claude can’t quite get, once again Dimitri remains a mystery to him. “I apologize for my naiveté, I thought you hadn’t had any other plans for the day. But,” he shakes his head and then, he’s back on being Prince Dimitri, Claude can tell, and it’s been moons since he has shown that face to him, not since they decided they were _friends_ , “Excuse my boldness again, but it is utterly stupid to be so careless before such a big event. How do you think you’ll lead your partner with a broken hand? You should be more careful Claude.”

And just like that he’s gone, leaving Claude behind feeling like a five-year-old. As soon as Dimitri is out of sight he regrets his words, the venom he put in them and which forced Dimitri to put on his mask, when he used to be the only one with whom he could stop pretending to hold the hopes and dreams of Faerghus on his frail shoulders. It was childish, stupid and childish.

Trapped by his own words Claude ends up in Hilda’s room. She’s still making jewels with Ignaz and Lysithea. “Hilda, we need to dance.”

The three of them look at him as if he’d just hit his head. “Like, right now?”

“Right now.” He repeats louder. None dare to oppose their house leader and so, Claude finds himself dancing with Hilda in front of their classroom.

“Do we have to do it in front of such an audience? Aren’t you scared people might- Oh. _Oh_! Is that one of your schemes to get Dimitri back into your bed?” she whispers the last part.

“What? No!” On the contrary! It’s only to piss him off! “Let’s say I’m paying the price of my stupidity.”

“Oh, you’re stupid now?”

“Indeed, but only when it concerns the matters of the heart.”

Hilda tilts her head, asking for more details. When she gets none, she steps on his foot. “Ouch!” she’s wearing heels. He tells her everything.

She steps on his other foot. “What was that for!?”

“I’ve never seen someone…this…urf!!” she can’t speak too loud, but Goddess it shows she wants to shout, “You refused to spend the entire afternoon alone with him on a horse ride!? Seriously? I thought you have read all the books you lent me!”

“Believe me I did.”

“I can’t believe it! You wouldn’t see a romantic scenery if you were right in front of one! Claude, you were going to get your answers, finally!” she grasps his hand harder as she gets more and more excited as she speaks, “Maybe he would have even invited you to the ball! Why did you turn him down?”

Claude looks at his feet, ashamed he hasn’t even thought of what Dimitri had to offer, he just wanted to upset him. “Because he’s turning me positively crazy.”

“It’s not a reason! Not a valid one at least.”

Of course he knows, he already admitted he was stupid, what more does she want!?

“It doesn’t look like you to take revenge on someone.”

No it doesn’t. Again, Hilda speaks the truth of his heart better than he ever will.

“Claude, sorry to brutalize you that way, but could you be in love with him?”

They stop dancing. Claude remains frozen, still holding on Hilda’s hands.

“Ah, sorry, that was too much I knew it.”

He needs an escape route, and fast, really fast. To get out of here. He can’t breathe. He needs fresh air.

“Hilda, have you ever flown on a wyvern’s back?”

It turns out she never had, and Claude is way too happy to realize one of her little girl’s dream thanks to Jasmine, who seems easier to handle than usual – Claude suspects she feels the turmoil in his heart and wants to help, wyverns are clever creatures, more than horses or Pegasus. After they put on their armour Claude helps her get on the wyvern’s back first, and only then put a foot on the stirrup.

“Claude, you know he’s watching us, right?”

He ignores her remark. “Here, hold the reigns. Don’t worry I’ll help you.”

“Claude!” His cheeks burn, of course he has seen, did she forget the truth she unveiled for him moons ago? He sees him, always, no matter where he stands. “Are you sure it’s okay? He looks upset.”

“I don’t care.” It’s a lie, they both know it. It’s childish, stupid. “Let’s go.”

And Claude is even stupider when he, somehow, decides to throw a glance behind his shoulder just to see if Hilda’s right, if he’s upset as she told him. He’s blessed with a great sight, hopefully, and even at this distance while Jasmine takes off, his eyes find Dimitri’s, and they’re a bit darker than he remembers them to be – his shoulders are tensed, his fists curl at his side, his lips are so thin he cannot see them, and Claude knows him so well he can guess he’s trying hard not to frown. He turns around without acknowledging him. Dimitri’s not simply upset, he can tell, he’s enraged and Goddess, what has he done?

They spend hours in the air. Hilda has never beamed so much, which is the only consolation Claude finds of this disastrous day. At least, his actions were able to make one person happy, and it’s one of the closest to his heart.

On the way back they speak, and once again Hilda finds the right words to put his mind at ease. No matter how much grudges he holds against Dimitri he cannot blame him entirely, for they both are stubborn enough to avoid the subject of their night routine and sulking in a corner won’t make anything better. He needs to apology, and perhaps seeing his good faith, Dimitri will mimic him and even untied his tongue to share a little bit more about the meanings and hidden motives behind his actions.

Claude goes to bed earlier than usual, ready to recover the sleep he lacks before the beginning of the week and to get back as much strength he can to find the courage to face Dimitri without flinching. They can’t keep hurting each other like this, they don’t have time for that, only four moons remain and they have yet to discover who hides behind the mask of the Flame Emperor.

So when there’s a knock on his door Claude isn’t ready. He thinks it’s too early. It is! It’s not even close to midnight so why, why is he at his door already, why is Claude so eager, why does his heart beat so fast – no, that, he knows the reason.

“Dimitri.” He cannot think of anything cleverer to say. Just his name turns his head into jelly. Or something like stewed fruit.

“Claude, I’m sorry I hadn’t realized you were already to bed.” It’s easy to see he’s still angry, Claude studies his face as he speaks, stares at his eyes, “I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh yeah?” He can’t help the smile, he lines on the doorframe, his undone braid escapes from behind his ear. Oh Goddess, Hilda was right, he’s distracted. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Ah, I’m glad to see you’re back at being yourself.” The muscles of his face ease into something that isn’t really a smile, but that’ll do for now. It has been a while since Claude allowed himself to openly stare at Dimitri that way, this close, he had forgotten for a moment how handsome he is, at all time, even when he’s angry at him, or worried, or a bit of both – why would he come to check on him if he wasn’t to begin with? “Well, I won’t impinge on your sleep any longer. Goodnight Claude.”

He watches him go, no, “Wait! Dimitri!” He’s well into the corridor now, he halts in front of Felix’s room. Claude reaches him in his pyjama. “Please, can you spare me a moment of your time?”

“Claude…of course, at any time. Always.” And Claude witnesses in awe how little by little the Prince’s act falls and Dimitri, _Dimitri_ , his friend, resurfaces. “Even in the depth of the night I will always have time for you.”

He tries not to think too much about that. “Actually I lied, to you. I was indeed tormented earlier, and I listened to your advice and flew all afternoon. I did me great good.”

“I am aware of that.”

“I realized I have been quite rude to refuse your proposition so, if you would forgive me, I really wish we could do that, some other time. Any time you want, actually. Even in the middle of the night if you need. Please?”

Dimitri opens his mouth, and that’s all. No word comes out of it. Claude has never been more anxious of a reply, is he going to open the door and talk about his nocturnal visits, and why they have abruptly stopped, or is he going to-

“Hey,” there’s a bang on Felix’s door, “Some people actually like to _sleep_ , and don’t care about your inanity.”

“Ah, sorry Felix,” Dimitri says, Claude wants to punch him, but he guesses it’s only fair, it’s his sweet revenge. “I forgive you my friend. You can sleep safely; I hold you no grudge.”

“Good, that will help me greatly indeed.”

And then he smiles, and Claude is this close to have an heart attack – he grins, he can’t help it and he’s so tired he must look dreamy, staring at Dimitri as if he was the sun, and Dimitri smiles deeper and looks away timidly. Claude wants him to stay. He hopes he understood the truth underneath his words. He wants him to come back.

Dimitri does not this night though. Nor the others. At some point, Claude stops waiting.

* * *

At the end of the following week Claude finds himself sulking in the dining hall despite the good company – Sylvain and Lorenz have been kind enough to support him in this most difficult time. Ashe passes by, bow in hand to the archery field. “Claude! What’s the matter? It’s unusual to see you without a smile on your face.”

Claude looks away, his arms crossed in front of his chest.

“Oh, he refuses to talk.” Sylvain informs him. “But I might have a little idea of what happened.”

Claude turns to him, his mouth opened ready to bite back, how could he possibly know and dare to betray his trust!?

His face must have spoken for him, because Sylvain replies to his silent inquiry, “Well Claude, you’re not the only one to have little birds everywhere in the Monastery.”

“And I’m sorry to warn you that you were kind of vocal about it.” Lorenz adds, to his demise.

That’s when Claude remembers who his neighbours are. Dammit. Felix and Lorenz.

Fine. He cannot hide anymore.

“I lost.” And really the game has been a disaster.

“You lost?” Ashe repeats, Petra joins him with her bow. “What is happened?”

At this rate the whole Monastery will be aware of his misadventure!

“To Hubert.” Lorenz tells them. “At chess. Three times in a row.”

“Oh.” Petra says, surprised but proud of her classmate, and Sylvain laughs as Claude’s pout deepens.

“And he took my white king as a trophy!” He bet one piece by pride and arrogance, but to be frank there has been no way he could have won. His mind wasn’t as sharp as it used to be, and Edelgard has been right about Hubert’s skills.

“Now you don’t even have a complete set, how are you supposed to play, hn?” Sylvain taunts him.

“That’s easy, we’ll use yours.”

“How are you going to play against His Highness then?”

“Play against me? Why?”

Dimitri, trail in hands, sits in front of Sylvain. “Right, perfect. That takes the cake.” Claude mutters.

“Hm? Are you hungry? Do you want some of my soup?” Dimitri proposes, but he only meets Sylvain’s laugher, who, deliberately or not, sentences poor Claude to death as Linhardt walks their way. “Hey, Linhardt! Have you already lost to Hubert at chess?”

“Of course not.” He just says, and Claude groans. This will follow him until the end of the year and he’s sure of it, they will all make sure of it.

Claude waits for Dimitri to finish his meal, enjoying the company of the whole; it is cheerful and carefree and ideal to make him forget about the shame of the scene he’s caused – and the loss of his white king; this, on top of everything, is utterly regrettable. They walk along their classroom, some of their classmates are already practicing for the White Heron Cup.

“So how about this long horse ride we talked about last week?”

“Have your absolute defeat troubled you this much that you need to unwind?” Dimitri mocks him.

“Ah, yes and no, I mean I am mostly embarrassed, and upset, but this is not the reason I asked for the ballad. I made a promise.”

“I’m afraid now is not the ideal time, the Professor still hasn’t decided who were to be our representative for the White Heron Cup; as the house leader I can’t leave my classmates to their fate, and if I were to leave the Monastery this could be seen as me fleeing the scene.”

“But you don’t want to dance, do you?” Claude can’t understand why he refuses to take the perfect escape route he’s giving him.

“Of course not, I pray the Goddess they would have some sense and choose someone who actually wants to. It’ll be utterly disgraceful. Can you imagine, me? Dancing?”

Claude laughs quietly, “Actually Your Majesty I can picture it quite well.” He’s dreamed of it, a couple of times, “And there’s no reason to think you would be ridiculous, more than anyone else. With a little practice, any skills can be conquered, and this one is no different.”

“Dancing demands delicacy and gracefulness, two qualities I unfortunately and ominously lack. But if you assure me that there is a scheme to maintain the illusion that I have a precise idea of what I’m doing, please tell Claude, I’m all ears.”

“And what do I get in exchange for my service?” Claude halts and leans on the wall, his arm is up and he rests his forehead there. “A Guide to Walk with a Broom Stick in your Ass without Pain?”

“Claude!” He mutters, his ears already red. Claude grins.

“I do really wish to know your secrets, believe me! Now, tell me Dimitri, why did you bring me here again?” It is what Claude affectionally calls ‘their spot’, where Dimitri has the tendency to bring him when he wants to talk about private and touchy subjects. “Don’t tell me it’s about Solon and the Flame Emperor, we wouldn’t want to break the mood.”

“Be reassured, it is not,” Dimitri speaks quietly, and looks behind his shoulder. “I must…seek for your advice. How do you ask someone to dance with you?”

Claude almost chokes and looses his balance. The pain in his stomach is back, the same one he got that night when Dimitri told him about Flayn’s saving, or when he watched Dimitri and Teach train together – jealousy, it’s called. “Well usually you just ask ‘do you want do dance with me?’ and hopes the other party will say yes. But since you’re the Prince of Faerghus, except if you killed someone or their family I don’t see how someone could refuse you anything – and to be frankly honest, I’ll dance with you even if you’d killed one of my relatives, for what it’s worth.”

“Please, Claude, don’t make fun of me, you know how…unprepared I am to these mondain ceremonies.” Dimitri would hesitate more to take a maiden’s hand than to kill his enemy with a lance, that’s for certain, it’s just the kind of man he is. “The last time I had the chance to dance with someone was Edelgard, and it was so long ago.”

“Why don’t you ask Sylvain?” Claude would highly appreciate if this conversion could turn short, the need to punch on a wall or soak in the hot baths and scream are coming back quicker than he expects.

“Well, Sylvain’s advices only work if you’re _Sylvain_ , or confident enough to look at your future partner in the eyes without tripping over your own words – he gave me some, how does he call them already, pick up phrases? I’ll never be able say one aloud.”

Claude snorts, but it’s without his consent. “Well, you’ll be more confident if you have an idea of the reply you’ll get, right? I guess I can investigate on the person you’re thinking of, but as I said you shouldn’t be nervous, I am sure everyone would be delighted to be asked for a dance by you.”

“Thank you, my friend, thank you plenty. You sure know how to boost my ego when I need it the most.” Dimitri stretches his neck and sighs quickly, he claps his hands on his cheek. “It shall be no trouble.”

Claude smiles, he tries to forget how deep inside he only wishes for his happiness, but the despair of knowing he won’t be the person offering it to Dimitri is never far from his heart, no matter how hard he tries – and he does, really – to obliterate the thoughts far, far away in a place his thoughts shall rarely wander. What would it be the moment he’ll see Dimitri dancing with someone else then?

“So?” He’d better be prepared, Claude thinks he has an idea already, but he needs to be sure.

“So what?”

“The name!” He hopes he didn’t sound too eager to know.

“Oh, hm,” and Dimitri looks down, his face turning red in an instant and his boots seem to win his attention in spite of Claude, who awaits with a heart hammering in his chest, and the increasing need to throw up. “Actually, it’s, a bit embarrassing that you would ask me out of the blue like that- I had no time to prepare- “

“But you sought for my help, didn’t you?”

“Claude von Riegan!!” A voice emerges from their back, and a pink fury walks to them, very, very quickly and possibly very, very angry. Oh, Goddess, what has he done again?

“Pray for me please,” he murmurs, not for Dimitri particularly, “I’d better go, otherwise I’m not sure I’ll even see the end of the moon.”

“Wait, Claude- “

“I know she doesn’t look like it but she’s the strongest person I know here after you, and unlike you she’ll kill me with no hesitation.”

Is Claude escaping? He probably is. Because, Dimitri has looked so shy, and adorable, and smitten he could barely take more. Whatever wrath he’ll have to endure as soon as he’ll meet Hilda, he is glad she found him just in time.

He’s been dragged backward, Dimitri pulls on his sleeve. “The Professor…do you think they’ll…agree to dance with a student?” He asks.

His eyes meet Hilda’s, and somehow she stops. Claude turns around.

“I can’t think of a single person who wouldn’t want to dance with you Dimitri.” He says, and he hates how he sounds weak, wounded, “And if they don’t well, that’s their loss, not yours.”

Dimitri drops his tunic and let him go without a word.

Claude isn’t followed as he hastily joins Hilda where she stands. “What were you talking about?”

He grabs her by the arm. “Please, look angry.”

“I am! Tell me!” she shouts. That should do.

“We were talking about the ball. More precisely about who he is going with.”

“Oh, and did you reject him?”

Claude tightens his hold, “No! of course not. Why do you say that?”

“I don’t know, he kind of, looks,” Hilda subtly casts him a glance to make sure of what she saw. “Melancholic.”

Once he’s sure they’re safe from unwanted ears, as they head to his room, Claude speaks, “Well, he’s going to ask Teach and he’s not sure they would say yes.”

“He’s gonna _what_?”

“You heard it right the first time. Now, why did you shout at me?”

“You told Hanneman I am going to represent the Golden Deer in the White Heron Cup?!” she cries. Ah, yes, he has forgotten to tell her about that hasn’t he? Bad idea, assuredly.

“Who else? Lorenz is thrilled to do the job but he’s absolutely terrible! He’s as charismatic as an oyster!”

“...Okay, I give you that but, why _me_?”

“Who else!” Claude shouts, “Lysithea is too young to be taken seriously, Leonie, well, she’ll never want to, Marianne is too shy, Ignaz has little confidence and well, Raphael- “

“Why not you then?”

“Please, Hilda. I don’t need it right now.”

He seems to mark a point then, and Hilda considers his defence with a hand on her hip. “Fine!” she finally says, “But I’ll try to teach Lorenz how to dance before I take his place, eventually, if he’s as catastrophic as you describe.”

“Let me be judge of that.” He doesn’t trust her if it meant she can have less things to do.

“Okay, fine, let’s practice all together tomorrow then. Any objection?”

Claude has none, he’ll talk to Lorenz before dinner about their new special training.

“Back to Dimitri then,” she sits in front of his desk just when he thought he was going to be free from any trouble. “This might sound silly, but I have…a theory.”

Claude can’t quite concentrate on anything else already, so he has no objection for that either.

“I think he thinks you’re going to the ball with me and that he’s trying to make you jealous by saying he’s going to ask the Professor.”

“No, this is ridiculous.” Dimitri will never do that. Claude, on the other hand… “Why would he think we’re going together?”

“Sylvain asked me if we were dating.” She drops, out of nowhere.

“What?!”

“Well, I think he knows we don’t and he doesn’t care, but I also think someone must have asked him to confirm we weren’t a thing, someone who wanted to be absolutely sure- “

“Come on, Sylvain was probably just asking you out.” It’s the most plausible explanation after all, he wouldn’t be called the womanizer otherwise and Hilda is pretty. It’s even a miracle he hasn’t tried anything with her already.

“Perhaps, but then why did he ask if I was going out with you, specifically, and not someone else? I don’t think he cared about my relationship status, only about yours.”

And in a way, were Claude to be in Sylvain’s shoes he would have probably set the same scheme.

“There’s also something I kind of hid from you.” Oh, Claude doesn’t really like that, not with the tone of her voice. “I think he saw you, in my room, that time where you fled from him last moon? And we’re always together, and you told him we needed to practice dancing, and he saw us on your wyvern, please Claude tell me it’s not complicated to see what it must look like from the outside.”

Again, she has a point. She’s way better than him to analyse those sorts of matter, which related to feelings more than simple logic.

“Imagine, he likes you, he wants to invite you but every time he wants to ask he’s reminded of my presence at your side.”

“But Dimitri isn’t the type to hurt people that way. And I know he has feelings for Teach, whatever they are. You saw them yourself.”

“About that,” Hilda bites on her lower lip. “I am not saying I didn’t see what I saw, back then, but let’s say there has been some improvement. Updates. Call them whatever you like.”

Claude frowns and crosses his arms on his chest, what is she going to reveal this time? Another truth she has knowingly hid from him?

“You know, we both acknowledge the fact that whatever you said you tried to do after the mock battle was stupid, extremely stupid and dangerous; but it might have not been for nothing.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“You see, I used to hate pink when I was a young girl.”

As surprising and interesting as it sounds, Claude doesn’t see the point at the present moment, and voices his irritation with a long sigh.

“No, you’ll see there’s a link, I’ll get to the point. So I used to hate pink because everyone told me how I had pink hair, that it suited me since I was a sweet girl, and that I’ll always be sweet and nice like a candy; and deep down I hated it because what if I didn’t want to be a candy? People didn’t give me the choice, and I blamed it on my hair, on the pink. Of course it was stupid, and one day I woke up and I realized all of a sudden I liked pink, and that I was okay being a candy, but I just wanted the old people to stop choosing for me.”

She watches Claude to judge his reaction. “It was my pink awakening.” She adds when she decides it was not of her liking.

“I still can’t see the link between your story and what happened at Gronder Field.”

“Then you seriously lack imagination.”

He pouts but awaits her explanation as always. He needs her more than she esteems, and she shall never know.

“It was something on-off, you know? After the mock battle he never really looked at you the same way. And if he still longs to see the Professor when they are in the same room as he, his stares are more scattered these days, and apart if there’s any other things on his mind I think you’re what filling his thoughts Claude.”

Claude, kind fond of the words Hilda delivers, finds himself shy. “Really?” As if he hadn’t heard right the first time.

“Do you realize how long you remained with your mouth stuck on his face? Five seconds! It was rather erotic, and no Claude I’m not joking, judging by the way he stared back at you, as if you were his dinner and he was starving, I’m almost certain he felt it that way. You were his sexual awakening.”

And Claude has to admit that, even for him something snapped that day, the first one he succumbed to his desire, perhaps it hasn’t only been in his head perhaps they shared something while they fought, that Dimitri too has felt. The memory alone of his body on top of his, his eyes, the feeling of his cheek on his bloody lips – he can still feel it under his skin.

“So, whatever I’m saying is that, maybe he was enchanted by the Professor as we all were, you included, at the beginning of the year and he sure has a deep affection to them still, because after all they have gone through so much more than we can ever imagined, but, Claude, you have to trust me when I say there’s high chance that he actually,” she takes his pros/cons list that is resting on his desk, “likes you back.”

Stunned, Claude takes the piece of paper. He has no idea he had let it so carelessly in plain sight. “Wait, did you just do that?”

“No.” she says with a smile. There’s a few changes Claude hasn’t made either, and the writing is definitely not his, or anyone from the Golden Deers, and the only person who has been in his room since he last read the list is-

“Oh, no.” Claude lies on his bed, he’s doomed. “He knows.”

Hilda takes back the list. “I wonder…what do you think he’ll get, him being Dimitri, and your list being this…elusive?” She points at the pros’ column, desperately empty. “You just put his name here, to me it sounds like you decide he wasn’t worth the trouble.”

“Of course, he…” Claude sits up but freezes in the middle of his phrase. His never-ending dilemma hasn’t found a satisfying answer yet. “He’s worth a lot of thing, but perhaps not the prospect of a war and innumerable deaths.”

He knows he’s sounds like a broken record and isn’t surprised Hilda sighs and looks away not to punch his pretty face. “Claude, you really need to take a decision, I don’t think it’s good either for him, or you, to dance around him if you’re not serious in the end. Do you love him or not?”

He would have rather liked her to hit him with her with her axe. “What if I do? It doesn’t change anything.” He can’t make it go away, the sight, the blood, the dead bodies, even if there were just part of his imagination, he doesn’t want the ghosts to haunt him like they haunt _him_.

“If you think so,” she says after a while, “it means you probably don’t.”

The whole situation reminds him of a story his mother used to read to them, when he was young enough to spend time with his closest half brothers and sisters. The story of a second son, a Prince, who fled from a foreign kingdom with its Queen, for love, and where the cuckolded King started a war. The Prince and his country, proud and arrogant, ignored the warnings of the Gods and they all perished, every single one of them and their families, and citizens, and a whole civilisation was lost for a simple matter of love between two people.

Claude won’t be like them.

He’ll avoid that tragedy.

He always plans four or five moves ahead.

“Anyway, whatever. Truth is, he likes you, whether you like it or not.”

And Claude truly is a golden deer like Dimitri said. He charmed him, guided him to a forest only he knew the path to and as soon as he had him exactly where he wanted him to be, he walks away.

“Hilda, do you want to go to the ball with me?”

She doesn’t answer right away.

“Why?”

“Well, I don’t want to be ridiculous and Dimitri admitted he can’t dance.” He says, with a smile of his face he tries to put in his voice as well.

Again, she watches him closely, but without her usual benevolence.

“No.” She says curtly. “I’d rather dance with Lorenz.”

* * *

Claude has spent the rest of the day alone in his room dwelling on the latest advancement of his ‘thing’ with Dimitri, and the silence’s company permitted him to clear his mind and hush a couple of voices that were obviously pushing him in the wrong direction. Ultimately, everyone will have to accept the fact that Claude is only withdrawing for the greatest good and Dimitri, if his feelings were truly those expressed on this ridiculous little piece of paper and returned Claude’s, is clever enough to come to that deduction as well.

But Claude has yet to tame the demons that rule him. He’s still young and naïve, and has never been afflicted with the misfortune of love and its overwhelming power, and how can he plan and anticipate his own schemes and reactions when he himself has no idea of what it means to be in love, to love someone more than anything, more than himself, for he had never experienced it before? Of course he read, and read again, and all those stories about tragic lovers never touched him because they were what they were, stories, not real; but never had he thought that sometimes, stories are just another way to sugar coat the truth. If he had already sensed that his feelings, if nobles at heart, could bring out less noble ones such as jealousy, Claude is about to find out at his expense, how dangerous and ugly love can drive a man, stepping above the Reason and Logic he so dearly worships, to make him take the most unreasonable and insane decisions against all his principles. This is the kind of power Dimitri has on him – bright, honest, broken Dimitri – and even if he had known what would have happened by the end of their year at Garreg Mach, Claude isn’t sure he would have had enough strength and courage to resist what his heart dictated.

It’s on this bright Sunday afternoon that Claude sees the moment he loses the grasp of the situation happening before his eyes, and realizes the only thing he can do is watch the catastrophe, perhaps a little bit stunned, from where he stands, his feet solidly fixed on the ground but his head is miles, miles away, eyes lost in Blue Sea Moon’s summer sky, and he isn’t sure why but part of him doesn’t want it any other way.

Yet there’s a part of him that still hates it, being powerless like this, he hates how quickly he accepts his fate. He thinks for a moment at his young self, from a couple of moons prior only treading upon Garreg Mach’s gardens for the first time in his life; what would this Claude say if he’d known how things would turn out to be? He’d probably laugh, say something not so clever, or _‘I told you so’_ with a charming smile and a wink, before disappearing inside his room. Now it’s almost as if he can’t align two coherent thoughts while Dimitri is in the same room. Oh, really, he should hate this. Yet Claude finds out he doesn’t even have it in him to have a bitter taste in his mouth about this.

Half the Monastery is practicing for the White Heron Cup, which is occurring in a couple of days. Of course the Golden Deers aren’t exempted and it’s with a smirk on his face that Claude helps Hilda and Lorenz practice together, and watches how his rival is going out of himself to impress them, but both him and Hilda agrees the one Lorenz does this for is the heir of the Riegan’s name and eternal rival, hands down, despite the sort of fight they had the other day – because they didn’t shout like Ingrid and Sylvain do, all the time, but each friendship is different, each person expresses pain and exasperation their own way.

It’s kind of fun actually, and Claude desperately needs something to distract his mind from the trap he had built all by himself during the last moons, with his own two hands and his sharp tongue; he needs to think of anything but such gentle eyes, powerful hands and soft heart – and he should probably be so mad at himself for what he has started, because it was not in any plan or any scheme he had forged ahead, it’s even the opposite of what he is supposed to do _and yet-_

Yet it feels so good.

They are all gathered in the small garden in front of their respective classrooms, Lorenz and Hilda pirouetting rather elegantly – Claude has to give him that, at least – while Claude leans on a pillar, safe from the sunrays and, he hopes, from curious eyes. He’s luring himself as well, pretending not to notice how his gaze goes from Lorenz’s smooth dance to the other house’s members practicing next to them. The Blue Lions are all reunited more or less – and it’s kind of a miracle that Felix is there as well, who on earth managed to drag him out of the training ground ? – and practicing with each other’s except from Dedue, for reasons Claude cannot fathom. Annette swings with Mercedes, Ingrid with her Prince and Sylvain kind of pouts, there’s a red mark on his cheek that is no mystery for Claude, considering the face Felix makes just next to him. It’s all chatter and fun, but Claude can’t help but notice how stiff the two blonds are, dancing with each other. It’s odd for him, because how long have they known each other? Dimitri told him the four of them – Ingrid, Sylvain, Felix, _His Highness_ – were childhood friends so why is it so painful to watch them dance together?

And no, Claude isn’t staring.

Dimitri has his prince-like smile he always wears when he feels that he should pull a front, and the efforts he puts in looking as Prince Perfect as he thinks he ought to be rigidify his spine, the grip of his hands, and it even reaches his jaw. Ingrid is not any better, but they aren’t close enough for Claude to know if there’s more underneath the surface as he’d learned to know some of Dimitri’s hidden sides - she kind of always looks serious and knightly, but he hopes she knows how to relax from time to time.

And Claude is definitely not staring, not until Dimitri stares back at least and he holds his breath, and time halts.

Or perhaps he was, and his eyes burned so much on the side of his face than Dimitri has no other choice but to enquire why he deserves such attention. Truth is, Dimitri has always been hard to look away from, but now the task turns itself to be impossible. Dimitri pulls people to him effortlessly, a steady charisma even Claude could barely fight against; and when he looks a bit deeper, behind the corner of Dimitri’s smiles and the golden locks on his face Claude could guess there’s as much light as there’s shadows surrounding him, following his every steps and thoughts, and for this latest part Claude likes to think it’s not something Dimitri willingly chose to show. A couple of weeks ago Claude had seen his darkness too but not distinctively, and even now Dimitri wouldn’t let him get a better look, and it’s frustrating as much as it’s thrilling, because there are still questions to be asked and answered; despite everything Claude needs to know, what cloth Dimitri is made of from top to bottom, check his every corner until he knows him, all of him, by heart.

Things have changed of course in moons, with how close they became; and as a consequence Claude has tried, in vain, to repress and hide his feelings in a corner of his room, as if they were unimportant, manageable, futile and doomed to disappear like steam on glass.

That’s why Dimitri doesn’t even have to pull for Claude to reach.

“You’re stupid.”

Hilda has somehow magically materialized next to him, Lorenz dancing with Marianne as they speak. Claude doesn’t usually let things like this get unnoticed – it could have been an enemy, an assassin coming for his neck, it could have been the end for him. How funny to think the so admirable Prince of Faerghus could very well be the only one to blame for his premature death.

“You’re so, very, stupid.” Hilda says again when she doesn’t manage to catch his attention. Claude realises now he didn’t stop staring because Dimitri saw him and smiled, and kind of tripped and stepped on Ingrid’s foot and then, he apologized with such intensity that made it ridiculous and chivalrous at the same time. Claude must admit that he is, at the very least, very smitten over him, but he’ll never admit it aloud and even more if Hilda is at ears.

Dammit.

Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd is perhaps the only person in the entire country he can’t possibly fall in love with.

“I am so very stupid.” He repeats, as his steps bring him closer to where Dimitri stands and keeps apologizing to Ingrid – who is not mad, not one bit, yet Dimitri feels as bad as if he’d killed someone – to offer his hand, as well as a cunning smile.

“Say, your Princeliness, how about I show you how to dance so you won’t break anyone’s foot with your heavy boots before the ball?”

“Claude,” he says his name as if he hadn’t caught him staring, ever so polite Prince of Faerghus – oh how much Claude loves when he says his name, “Thank you for offering your help.”

And he gives him Ingrid’s hand, completely missing the point and Claude has to really bite the inside of his cheek not to scream. He gives Ingrid a fake smile – his usual one. “Well, shall we?”

Ingrid seems more uneasy than before, if possible, probably because she has sensed something Dimitri clearly didn’t. The girl isn’t as dense as she seems, unlike her future King.

As they dance Claude focuses on his steps, where he places his hands – a bit too low on Ingrid’s waist he admits, just to see, just for _him_ to see – but Dimitri never leaves his peripherical vision, it’s enough for Claude to witness his blue eyes never diverting from them. His hands get sweaty, his stomach burns just enough with something pleasant he’s not supposed to like – the thrill, the thrill, _the_ _thrill_ – and they part as soon as he finds Ingrid more relaxed in his care. He turns to Dimitri, who hasn’t moved from his spot the entire time.

“You need to guide her, and not dance like you’re on your own. Dancing is like a duet; you’re supposed to do it _with_ your partner and move as one. Now if you would excuse me,” Claude elaborates before blowing, announcing his leave. He takes, one, two, three calculated slow steps-

“Wait, Claude!”

Quicker than he thought.

“This is hardly teaching.” Dimitri complains. Claude tries to remain as clueless as possible but Goddess it does feel good when finally, Dimitri falls into his trap. “Could you please enlighten me as well?”

“Well, of course your Highness.” Claude cocks a smile just to tease, knowing how Dimitri hates when he’s been called that way – and fully knowing he’ll be back at calling him ‘ _Dimitri’_ when night comes, when they will meet in the library and walk back together to the dorms only once it’s pitch black outside. Claude joins them again and offers his hand with the exact same gesture he’s done before, hoping something in the back of Dimitri’s mind would put two and two together and realize it has been for him to take all along.

His hopes aren’t that high though, if Dimitri has revealed something these past few moons, it’s that he’s _dense as fuck_ when it concerns ‘love’ matters.

And soon their hands join, Claude enjoys the way Dimitri shyly entwines their fingers but refrains to comment on it – but oh does it itch – and how he seems not to know where to put his other hand when he found Ingrid’s waist rather easily earlier. Claude raises an eyebrow, “What? Why are you being so shy suddenly?”

It might have occurred to him that Dimitri had known Ingrid since he was very little – before Duscur, he thinks suddenly – and perhaps it’s easier to act around her than with Claude, daring and flirty Claude, who broke into his comfort zone a couple of moons ago only and refused to leave.

Nonetheless, there is something in Dimitri that drags him, makes him take unnecessary risk; it’s in the way his hands, freed of his gantlets for once, brush past his waist that it only tickles, in the way he slightly blushes each time Claude enters by effraction in his personal space and does nothing about it the next times he overpasses these limits, in the way when they are this close it’s more difficult for their eyes to meet. Could this even be real? Is this another clue Claude missed because he refused the truth? Perhaps Dimitri might like him back, and he has never wanted something more and dread it at the same time.

“There,” Claude pushes Dimitri’s hand against his waist and a bit lower, not to his hip but that’s definitely where he would want it to be in other circumstances. “Guide me.”

Somehow Ingrid has escaped and is trying _not_ to dance with Sylvain while Felix has lost against Annette’s cheerfulness, which feels like they have the place just for themselves. Claude has already forgotten what he was doing here in first place but he’s glad he came. They stand safely from one another, for Claude’s heart not to start a marathon but there’s still something missing as they start waltzing. Dimitri is crushing his hand.

“Hey, _Dimitri_ ,” he murmurs as he leans close to his ear, he doesn’t want the others to know he calls him that way, with care, with tenderness “Look at me.”

If Dimitri hadn’t looked up he would have probably grabbed his chin himself to force their eyes to meet, which would have leaded to more skin contact and possible missteps – Claude could have accidentally tripped on his own feet and surged on Dimitri and their lips could have collided in a collateral damage to avoid his ungraceful fall - but hopefully it wasn’t needed. Dimitri blue eyes search his face, not gazing into Claude’s own immediately. They raise, gradually, prudently, as if Claude could burn him with his stare only. Claude likes the idea. He likes it very much because he’s almost a hundred percent sure he’s close to this level of craving himself.

It doesn’t happen that way though, not yet. Claude lets a sigh escape his lips, inaudible, and Dimitri squeezes his hand before relaxing, eventually. They get closer, they dance, and it’s painful to see how Dimitri moves better when it’s with him – or perhaps Claude only sees what he wants to see when it concerns Dimitri? And then it’s just as Hilda said, the something on-off that makes him see the world with a new light and nothing will ever look grey.

He can’t believe it, how a fool he had been, how weak of the heart to fall in love with none but Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd.

When did it start? How? Claude remembers going to Garreg Mach with a couple of goals in mind – studying, learning, securing his place as the leader of the Alliance for the greatest good, socializing in that extent but never, ever revealing his origins – and, if befriending Dimitri and Edelgard has been on top of his list, losing his capacity to reason while standing a feet away from the Prince of Faerghus clearly wasn’t.

If he could just lean in. Capture those rosy lips with his own, breathe into him, inhale the scent of sweat after practice, or more pleasant activities…

But he can’t. Dimitri is unreachable. There is absolutely nothing good that can blossom from the future King of the Holy Kingdom and the future Leader of the Alliance that would satisfy Claude’s heart.

Hilda eyes him with something Claude really doesn’t like in her gaze and wonders how other people feel when he’s the one staring at them that way – probably annoyed and terribly exposed. Yet, he feigns ignorance when he passes by her, knowing she’ll see right through him and take it as a signal she should not push further. They have already discussed on the matter; he knows her thoughts and she knows his.

“The stupidest of all…” murmurs she, as he disappears – or flee? – in their classroom.

If Hilda is angry at her best friend right now it’s for his own good. Claude has no idea of how miserable he looks when he parts away from Dimitri and the sight breaks her heart. She’d want nothing more than the two of them to open their eyes, but for some reasons she can’t fathom Claude is obsessed by a chimera, the shadow of a terrible fate if they were to be more than just friends. She sighs, there are time when she is not able to read Claude as well as she usually does.

When she decides Lorenz has spent enough time torturing Marianne with his noble believes, she walks to them with her innocent smile and asks Lorenz a favour.

To none surprise, Dorothea wins the White Heron Cup, even if unexpectedly Lorenz hasn’t been that bad himself. If they fail by little, Claude feels as he has gained something else entirely, as his fingers remember the way Dimitri entwined his in his hands, and the ghost of his hand on his waist – or has he really? Isn’t it one too many temptations he swore to ignore? It’s so easy to avoid Dimitri and to stick to his guns when he’s not around, but as soon as he sees him – hears him, his voice, his boots on the pavement – or smells his scent it’s all over.

Dimitri did it certainly without knowing, or ulterior motives but he set an irresistible trap Claude couldn’t help but fall into, and now he’s won. He has won, completely and absolutely.

* * *

The twentieth day of Etherian moon fills Claude with excitement as he can’t wait to see how Dimitri will react to what he’s prepared and the gift he bought for him. If he never mentioned his birthday in front of him, which Claude chose not to interpret as a sign of mistrust, but rather that Dimitri doesn’t care much about the exact day he came into this world, Claude has investigated, of course, and even without Sylvain giving the game away it would have taken to be blind not to guess, with how excited and prolific Annette and Mercedes were in the kitchens, baking and baking and tasting cakes all day after classes, with the help of some of the Golden Deers and Black Eagles – Claude was surprised to see Edelgard contributed to their effort – until they found the perfect recipe for their Prince. Claude smiled politely, cheering on them from behind as he enjoyed eating cakes better than to make them, but deep inside he felt sorry, for their whole efforts would soon be reduced to ashes by his own surprise. Nothing can compare to what he’s gotten his hands on. Nothing!

“You’re sending me mixed signals again.” Hilda tells him, to none surprise, as she has a hard time deciding on which earrings to wear for the ball.

“A promise is a promise. And, it’s not like I can’t give him anything. We’re friends.”

“He didn’t give you anything for your birthday if I remember correctly.”

“Well,” Dimitri still made a promise to give something back but never did, had he? “At least he showed up.”

Hilda doesn’t even bother to reply, she’s way too busy with her future attire and has long surrendered on understanding his trail of thoughts when it concerns Dimitri and him, and the future of both their territories. He can’t ask her to, anyway, some things are just too complicated for someone who expressly refuses to engage in political matters.

The plan is simple. First, there is no plan – at least, Claude needs to give this sort of impression – and second, the Blue Lions will bring Dimitri to the stables just after lunch and here will be Claude as well, waiting to pick him up for a long horse ride as he loves, and bring him back before midnight. Well, before the end of the afternoon at least, if not Annette will literally make him suffocate with her pound cake.

And at first, everything goes smoothly.

Dimitri arrives just in time to see Claude brushing his horse. “Oh, Your Princeliness! Fancy seeing you here on such an important day.”

“Such an important day? May I have missed something?”

Claude grins, he’s so charming, why must he be, always, “Don’t pretend you aren’t aware when you’re the principal actor! Happy Birthday!” Claude walks to him and bows, smiling again when he sees how bemused it makes Dimitri. “I would have gladly hugged you, but we kind of have an audience.”

“ _Claude_!” Behind them, Annette and Mercedes giggle, which makes the whole situation funnier.

“Are you going on a ride?” Sylvain asks, on time – perfectly on time, just before Dimitri recovers from this first moment of embarrassment.

“Oh, well, why not? I was thinking, with the ball and all I need to wander in the wild before Lady Rhea locks us up in a big room with too many people to dance with. But to be honest it’s been a while since I last mount my horse, and I might be a little rusty. Care to join me?” He asks Sylvain. Dimitri stares between them.

“Oh, I’m afraid I can’t, I promise Ingrid I would train with her, and by training she really means it, but I am sure we can practice a waltz or two.” He winks, the message is clear, even Dimitri will get it.

“Well, too bad! I can’t say I’m not disappointed, I was hoping to trot to Faerghus’ territory. I don’t know the area this well since none of our missions brought us there, and I was curious about your sceneries.”

His eyes halt on Dimitri. Awaited impact in three, tw-

“I’d gladly go with you Claude, you should have asked sooner.” He says with a bit of annoyance, beating off every ones of Claude’s expectations.

“Oh really? That would be delightful indeed! Even if I don’t want to disturb your day...”

Dimitri rolls his eyes, abandoning his friends as he gets his own horse out of the stables. “When do you disturb me Claude?”

He laughs, never he hopes, but that would be too good to be true.

They get warmer clothes, to Dimitri’s advice, and exit the Monastery by the front gate together. If Claude hasn’t ridden a horse in a long time, he isn’t a beginner nonetheless, and perhaps he does not need company at all, but needing and wanting are too very distinct things. He’s glad Dimitri suggested the coat. The air that comes out of his mouth condensates already and they haven’t even gone north yet.

They take their time to chitchat and trot for half an hour, not really minding the sceneries at all but rather enjoying each other’s company. They could talk for hours, Claude realizes, about this and that and their first ride, and their first horse, the first fall, their favourite places to go, their childhood memories – and everything is so simple when they are both extirpated from Garreg Mach and nobody knows where they are, or who they are. This is, really, unwinding, this tastes too much like freedom.

“Over here.” Dimitri halts on top of a small hill, overlooking a forest. He points at its entrance. “This is the path we took when we first arrived at Garreg Mach. Behind the trees lies the Kingdom of Faerghus.”

Claude comes to his side, his eyes leaving Dimitri’s face to follow where his finger points at – but only for a short moment. “I’ve never seen trees like this.”

“Well, I guess you don’t have that sort of specimen back in- I mean, where you come from.”

Claude swallows hard, trying to ignore how his instinct twists his guts and orders him to ride backwards to the Monastery where he is safe, than to follow Dimitri – what did he almost say? – in this obscure forest full of unknown trees and perhaps, bandits. Who on Earth decided it was safe for them to ride alone without anyone to watch over them?

Dimitri advances though and Claude has no other choice but to follow. He doesn’t mind though. He feels safe with Dimitri around.

The trees are a variety of cedar he has never seen before. They slow down as they pass by – well Claude does, without knowing and Dimitri follows, which again Claude does not notice – and thanks to the slow pace Claude can see a family of squirrels climbing on the top branches with their dinner in their paws. Soon the path divides into two.

“So, what do we do now?”

Dimitri takes the lead. “You said you wanted to see Faerghus? Let’s go- “

But Claude takes the opposite direction and gallops through a narrow path, leaving Dimitri behind and completely flabbergasted. He’s a bit worried when he hears nothing, no one following his whim but soon the hoofs of Dimitri’s mount resonate in the emptiness of the forest and Claude smiles, “Claude! Wait! What on Saint Seiros do you have in mind!?” he laughs, the wind blows his hair in every direction, invigorates his face, he gallops faster as he comes out on a clearing. He halts near a tarn and binds his horse to the nearest tree. Dimitri joins him and dismounts, Claude can tell he’s not mad, but not totally as amused as he would have liked him to.

“I thought it would be fun.”

“To lose me in the middle of a forest? I thought you wanted to spend some time with…I mean, you said you wanted a guide to show you Faerghus- “

“And force you to see a sight you already know by heart? Come on, where’s the fun in that!? It’s your birthday isn’t it? You should spend it doing something fun and not being too polite to refuse my selfish silliness.”

“But I do enjoy it, your…Claude, I know none of it is selfish. I wish to be brave enough to share my thoughts on the matter, but I’m afraid I lack the confidence.”

Claude can see how uneasy he stands, his hands constantly playing with the hem of his cape, or his tunic, or making his fingers crack; more than anything he understood what lies behind his words and they went directly to his heart. He wishes he didn’t though, because now both can’t dare to look at the other’s eyes. Being outside Garreg Mach changes almost everything, apart from their tunic there is absolutely nothing that reminds them of their filiation, and he thinks of Hilda’s words once more.

Who could possibly know what would happen in the woods?

It can be their secret. No one would know but them. They truly are alone, there’s not a single noise betraying an enemy’s presence. Claude’s heart beats faster, his cheeks colour with hope and he knows they shall not but he can’t help it, there’s something the knowledge of Dimitri, _possibly_ , longing for him that is purely irresistible.

He drops the mask, deliberately, but only for a short time. He smiles then, truly, “Take your time then, my friend.” He raises his eyes, just to see if Dimitri is looking back. He is, his smile deepens. “Do you know this place?”

It’s funny how he doesn’t recognize his own voice.

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Dimitri strolls to his side, his feet flirting with the water. “But I supposed it is the point, isn’t it?”

“How about we venture in the woods, together? Oh, I promise I won’t abandon you inside, at least this time.”

Dimitri sort of laughs but only from a corner of his lips, the one Claude can see. He stares at the tarn, at their reflection in the water as if he was looking for something in it when Claude can’t barely look away from him, his smile, his face, the curve of his nose, the way his eyes have never looked brighter than today, and there’s nothing more rewarding than the knowledge that perhaps, all of this is Claude’s doing and nothing else. He’s still dangerously flirting with a line he swore never to cross, he knows it, but Claude is young, Claude is eighteen, he’s brilliant and he has big dreams, and when pushed by the powerful wings of a dawning love, one can think of himself as invulnerable, absolute, untouchable, one even the might of a Goddess couldn’t reach.

But some wings are made of wax.

“I would love to.” Replies Dimitri. “Please Claude, take me wherever you want.”

There’s a part of Claude who wants nothing more than to plunge into the tarn and make the blush disappear from his entire face, but it’s really small next to the other one who would have taken Dimitri’s hand and never let it go, if it had ever been offered. “Then let’s go, Your Princeliness. Let me show you the world.”

It strikes him just now how much they both need this, need each other, in those moments where they wander in an unknown forest and suddenly everything is an adventure. Any mushrooms, any insects, any new kind of moss is a reason of wonderment only the candour of a carefree childhood can permit, something Fate deprived them of since the moment they were born. Claude often wondered at times, if not always, what it would be not to be a Prince, to be born in a simple noble family, or even if his mother hadn’t left Fódlan, or if he had had the guts to escape his fate as she did; what would his life look like, if any of those things had occurred? The thoughts never linger long, because after all the world wasn’t build with ‘what ifs’, and there are high risks he would have never meet Dimitri, or at least not like this. It’s then easy to consider the fact that the same thoughts visited Dimitri at times, especially after Duscur, especially when they began to call him His Highness, especially when the voices come to him at night.

He hopes they have hushed now.

Dimitri halts and motions him to do as such. Before them, a family of deer and their fawn are resting under a tree. “We should make a detour.”

Claude looks up in the sky between the branches to determine how much time he can keep Dimitri to himself, but the sun can’t be seen behind the dark clouds that are quickly coming their way. They’d better come back to the Monastery before they get drench, but Dimitri seems to have too much fun to stop. He looks so young, sometimes even Claude forgets he’s barely eighteen himself, most of the time none of them act like they are.

There’s suddenly a rushing of leaves on their side and Claude lets his instinct overpowers his movement, his hand comes to his calf where the dagger lies. Dimitri holds his shoulder, immobilising him. “It’s just a boar…” he says, barely audible, yet Claude can distinguish the anguish underneath. None of them, back at the Monastery, will ever see him like this, none of them will ever see the real Dimitri under the surface and as much as Claude feels his chest growing with pride, he can’t help the guilt, and think how everything would be easier for Dimitri if he could show his true nature to his closest ones. But one can’t do whatever one pleases when placed by Fate with such a great power.

However Claude tries to manipulate the truth, as true as the dagger hidden in his boots, there is Almyrian’s blood running in his veins, and while his time in Fódlan is a necessity at this time, for his survival and his grandfather’s, he won’t be able to escape his duties forever. A thought, painful, comes through his mind while Dimitri kneels to observe some kind of insect he has never seen before. What would happen of them once Claude is back to Almyra? How would Dimitri take the news in? Would he feel stunned, surprised, disgusted, or worse, betrayed? With how tensed the relation between Fódlan and his home country is, there is no way the two of them will be able to come and go freely in both countries, there is nearly no doubt they could never see each other again once Claude leaves. But nearly isn’t totally. If both Fódlan and Almyra are ruled by peaceful leaders, if both countries have settled their inner conflicts, perhaps Claude can have the luxury to hope for a time where both Kings could meet again on a friendly ground. That would take tremendous efforts and possibly a couple of years, or decades, to bring peace to the Kingdom and hush the bandits, to unify the people behind Dimitri’s reign, to calm down every of the Alliance’s nobles’ ego into a common consortium, to dompt the Empire’s ambition, and Edelgard’s ire against the Church; and then, Claude will have to start over in another country where half the royalty wants him dead.

Yet, it is nothing; because as he stares at Dimitri, in awe in front of two firebugs visibly mating – he has no idea, of course – Claude knows he has it in him to make everything happen. He’ll do it, there’s no other choice because time is running and way too fast, he already clings to every seconds he can spend with Dimitri and they never feel enough, each parting, each goodbye tend to be harder to bear and they have so little time left.

A drop of water falls on his cheek, then another. In a matter of seconds it starts raining, and both are running with their cape above their head, looking for their horse. The cold water burns against his legs as his tunic sticks on his skin, Claude is glad they brought warmer coats. “Dammit! I can’t believe I was too concentrated to have missed the change of weather entirely!”

“Calm down Dimitri, bad weather is part of the charm of life, you know? It is vain to try to prevent the unpredictable after all.”

“I agree, even if it sounds surprising coming from you.”

Claude laughs quietly. “I always have a plan or two regardless of unpredictable variables. That’s just how I adapt to any kind of situations. The secret is to have every possible scenario played in your head once, so that when it actually happens, you’re ready to face it and keep a cool head.”

Hopefully, the horses haven’t run away. They mount, Claude is reminded of the gift in his pocket, he’ll have to find a better time to offer it then. They gallop back to where they came almost an hour before; they’re already soaked when they leave the forest. “And what are you plans regarding the upcoming tempest?”

“Tempest? Come on Dimitri, it’s just a bit of water!”

The Goddess it seems doesn’t approved as she sends thunder in Claude’s way. The nose more than the sight scares his horse and Claude inevitably loses his balance and dismounts, his back hitting the mud. “Claude!” Dimitri rushes to him, hopefully apart from his pride he has not suffer any deadly wound. “Claude, are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m, let me just, catch my breath.” There’s even mud on his face now, great, what a beautiful day. For sure, Claude hasn’t anticipated this. And his perfect gift ran away, on top of everything!

“I’m afraid my horse abandoned us as well.” Dimitri says as he looks around. “Let’s find a safe place to recover, then we’ll look for our mounts when the weather permits it.”

Unfortunately there is no shelter in sight except for a couple of high trees, but with thunder striking so randomly Dimitri refuses they hide right under. They also cannot wait in plain sight; without their horse they make easy targets for bandits and they only have Dimitri’s sword to defend themselves. At some point they stopped running and accept their fate; Claude uses his cape to clean the mud from his face while Dimitri holds his above both their head to protect them from the icy rain. Claude sneezes.

“What?” Has he dreamed this? Did Dimitri just laugh?

“Nothing.”

“Tell me!”

Dimitri looks away, he smiles, “I’d never thought your sneeze would sound like that.”

“Like what?” He shouldn’t ask. He knows it. He won’t like the answer, because he likes the face Dimitri makes too much.

“Well, how could I say…cute? No, not really.” Claude wants to run away already, and the worse is yet to come. “The only word that comes to my mind is endearing, but perhaps it is a bit much, for a sneeze at least.”

“And I’m glad we agree on that.”

“Perhaps I couldn’t find any other words because I can’t think of anything but you.”

Claude’s smile disappears from his face. Has he hit his head so bad in his fall to imagine such nonsense? Is he dreaming? “What?” is the only thing that comes out of his mouth, like a vital reflex he had to say something because it cannot be real, this can’t be happening and especially not now.

“I appreciate what you did for me today, and I have to admit I grandly needed it. Despite the bad weather and how it hurried our time to end, I had a really good time with you Claude. I hope we can do it again.”

“Oh, well, it’s really nothing. I mean it’s your birthday after all, so it’s only logical we would spend it doing something you’d enjoy.”

“And Claude, I do find you really endearing, more and more, each day I spend with you.”

And suddenly Claude forgets how to talk. There are some words that come to his mind – very little, to be honest, some like ‘what the heck’, ‘sorry’, ‘I need a doctor’ and ‘pineapples’, goddess knows why – but he can’t say them. And his cheeks burn, his eyes look up hopefully to Dimitri and meet his blue and it burns deeper. Claude looks down to their feet, their boots are full of mud.

“To be honest, I’m quite content you respond that way. I thought I was the only one reacting that violently, but it seems I did manage to silence you with your own words.”

“Hm, I, Dimitri, what do you mean by that?” Claude manages after some time.

“You do not remember? As soon as we became friends you called me ‘charming’ and ‘endearing’, and I had no idea of how to deal with it. I was, truly, unsettled, distraught even, to be honest, I couldn’t find the courage to meet your eyes at first. Then,” Dimitri laughs bitterly, “Then I thought it was all a joke to you and I chose to ignore them, your pretty words.”

“They weren’t.” Claude talks before he can think, “Never. I’ve always meant them.”

“Then how can you be so shy about them when you’re on the receiving end? Were you trying to embarrass me this much? You act as if those words coming from me mean more than if they came from you. That you say them more easily than you think I do. Do they hold no sense for you then?”

“Of course not! I mean. Dimitri it’s not something you ordinary ask people you know that?”

Claude would have rather faced Dimitri’s punches than his brutal honesty, and he bites his lips, knowing fully it is what attracted him first and foremost, and swears he hates it when Fate comes and bites his bottoms, once again.

“I’m just asking a simple question. Why is it so difficult for you to reply? I thought you always have a clever word to share with the world.”

Ignoring the irritation, easily noticeable in the choice of words more than the tone Dimitri uses, Claude wants to scream; he’s wet from head to toes, shivering with cold, he literally has mud on his face and they stand not even a feet apart – and somehow even under these circumstances Dimitri manages to _smell_ _so good_ – it shouldn’t be difficult to guess why Claude isn’t at his best to have this sort of unexpectedly intimist conversation, it shouldn’t but of course it’s Dimitri. It’s him and Claude fell for him and of course he wouldn’t understand.

Claude wonders if he didn’t like him better before they got closer and Dimitri started to break the wall he built around him without knowing, without his consent, and shakes him just like Claude did at first. He was more manageable back then. It was less thrilling back then too.

“Let’s say it’s different coming from you.” At some point Claude realizes he has to give him a reply, because Dimitri patiently waited without repeating himself and Claude has been lost in his thoughts for so long he could have been waiting for a minute or two in this awkward silence. Hopefully, the rain and thunder accompany their halt, but show no sign of lessening, which is rather inconvenient since it means they will have to stay here, like this, under Dimitri’s cape for some more time.

Claude looks up when he’s not answered right away. The way Dimitri stares at him sends shivers down his spine. He’s rarely been looked with such intensity and despite this, despite having known Dimitri for so long now he can’t read him.

“I don’t really care about what people think of me, I just want to know and act accordingly. I can deal with anything; hate, mistrust, jealousy, envy, friendship, I can accommodate pretty easily, that’s my way to survive all this mess that is my life. You’re different. I care when it comes to you. And not because of the possible benefits our friendship could have for me and the Alliance and ease my future leadership no, not at all. I really, do care. It’s like, I’ve never wanted anyone to think I’m charming more than you. Seriously, Dimitri,” his voice finds some strength back, some eloquence, he struggles less with his words, “You could have waited for me to have dry clothes and a clean face to shove such heart-warming truth to my face, that is not really chivalrous, don’t you think?”

Dimitri laughs softly, his head drops to his side, “Perhaps it was a bit sly. I’m learning from the best.”

“And I’m proud of your unexpected progress my friend, but please, can I not be the subject of your training next time?”

Claude feels his shoulders relax with each second that passes when Dimitri laughs with him, and it suddenly feels easier to breathe. Once his heartbeat finds his usual pace, the question still remains, did he really say those things, as if it was the most natural thing in the world? And how much meaning did he put into them?

The only person Dimitri referred to as charming is Teach, that Claude is quite sure of it.

“Oh wait, Claude you have something…”

The gesture, just like Dimitri honest words of fondness, isn’t something he has anticipated, or could have, even in a billion’s years. And as he sees everything happening in slow motion – Dimitri leans in his personal space, his face comes dangerously close to his own with his eyes squinting and his lips move, and Claude can’t hear – his mind is about to explode with the too many information it receives. Dimitri smells so good, he thinks he’s charming, he’s leaning in, his lips are so close, if only he could reach, if only he could lean in too.

Somehow there has been a short circuit, because the ‘if only’ has been hushed and Claude raises on his toes to meet him halfway. He moves so slowly, his eyes on Dimitri’s lips, he can’t close them, he’s too scared the sight will disappear if he ever has the bad idea to look away.

And Dimitri’s lips halt. They stop moving and then Claude realizes Dimitri did as much, and he has his hand in his hair holding a stalk that got stuck there in his fall, which is where he has been aiming all along, and this is where the mistake lies. Their eyes meet. Incomprehension against fear, that he has spoiled everything on a whim, on a stupid whim, they should never, they can never-

That’s why Claude panics when eventually Dimitri closes his eyes and leans in again. He panics, and he does what he knows best in those terrible moments; he runs away, he backs off, he falls back on his heels the moment he feels Dimitri’s breathe on his skin.

The hand on his hair goes to his cheek, Dimitri lets out a sigh, he opens his eyes once more, incomprehension again filled them as they stare back at him and his withdraw. Claude can’t align two coherent thoughts together. His head in empty, utterly, the jelly he had instead of a brain is gone, replaced by the void where the sounds of his beating heart occupying the space left in his skull. All he knows is that there’s a hand on his cheek and it belongs to the man he loves, who is presently standing in front of him, their lips a hair apart and he tried to reach, he tried, and he’s still there, Dimitri is still so close to him and Claude loves him so much it hurts, all the portion of his skin that Dimitri doesn’t hold hurt. He wants to hold him again and be held back, to feel his breath on his neck when he sleeps in his arms, to hear his heartbeat against his chest, the warmth of his lips on his.

“Dimitri…” he breathes, his hand covers the one that still cups his cheek, his lips chase for those in front of him, those he has dreamed of for so long, whose taste he’s missed for too long.

But Claude only meets emptiness. Dimitri’s cape falls on his face and the heat from his hand is gone. It is how he is bitterly reminded that there’s an outside world apart from Dimitri and him waiting for the rain to stop under this cape that was too small for two; with the noise of the rain and of a horse’s hoofs coming their way.

“Looks like my horse is back, we can finally return to the Monastery and change our clothes. Claude, come quickly, before you catch a cold.”

Just like that, the spell has broken.

And the tone is the same, as if nothing had happened, as if they hadn’t almost kissed and it’s the same story told another time, the same pattern Dimitri used at the beginning of the moon. He’ll pretend nothing had happened.

The fall might have altered his perception of time, for if the almost kiss, a regrettable event that seemed like an eternity, took a few seconds only, on the other hand the ride back can’t be more than a couple of minutes long on hell for leather and yet they never seem to reach the Monastery’s gate soon enough. Claude is still stunned when he mounts. His back rests on Dimitri’s chest, it’s hard to concentrate when he can feel, despite their thick coat, Dimitri’s heartbeat against him, and it’s beating hard and fast, perhaps as much as Claude’s.

This is his only victory of the day, yet it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. And if only he hadn’t been a coward, he could have had something else to celebrate, another kind of victory on the tip of his tongue.

He’s such a mess he doesn’t realize none of them have opened their mouth for the whole journey back home.

“Claude!!” They have quite the welcoming committee as soon as they pass the door; all their classmates are there and even Manuella stands by their side. Hilda almost has tears in her eyes and she rushes to him and holds him in her arms, so tightly Claude cannot breathe. “Never scare me like this ever again!”

From the corner of his eyes he notices his horse has come back covered in mud, and alone. They must all have feared the worst. Dimitri is already talking to Teach and Hanneman, explaining the situation he believes, avoiding talking about anything else.

“You can’t begin to imagine how worried I was! You can’t leave me alone like this Claude! What would I become without you!”

Then Manuella checks him from top to bottom, and does it again when Hilda presses her, because he hasn’t been talking at all since they came back so of course there must be something wrong with his head. There’s mud on his hair after all, he must have hit the ground violently, hasn’t he?

“I’m alright, I promise my ladies.” Somehow he needs to reorganize his thoughts and quick, people are staring, people are talking, they always are, they wait for the best moment to attack, when Claude stands defenceless and vulnerable against adversity. They are not in the middle of the forest, just the two of them anymore. They have an audience. He needs to put the mask back on his face.

Claude reappears, his smile, perfect and pristine and purely fake coming along just well. “We were just surprised by the sudden change of weather and I lost control of my noble charger. I made a fool of myself and His Highness has been kind enough not scold me much, and even brought me back in one piece!” Dimitri turns his way when he’s mentioned, Claude doesn’t look his way – he hates he can’t help but notice. “Apart from my pride I’m afraid I suffer from no major injury.”

“This is also where my examination leads me. You’re free from a stay in the infirmary Claude, but please go back to your room to change, and take a bath.”

Claude smiles, politely; as soon as she turns her back Hilda sticks her tongue out. “ _’Take a bath Claude.’_ ” She imitates her, “Who does she think she is?”

“Well, she’s kind of right,” Claude combs his hair, mud still dirties his finger despite the rain. “I’m disgusting.”

“But what the heck happened? You looked so…out when you arrived! It was like it wasn’t you riding with Prince Charming but your ghost!”

Speaking of Dimitri, he’s walking their way. “We’ll speak about Prince Charming later if you’d want my dear. Dimitri! Seems we make it alive you and I eventually!”

Dimitri frowns, “Of course we did? We weren’t in great danger. It’s just a bit of water as you said – and, in your case, dirt.”

Claude rolls his eyes; he’s got his game back in his hands. “I was trying to impress this lady right there, you could have been of help, you know.”

Hilda, furious, kicks his legs. He winces, Dimitri can’t find the sight funny. Claude can’t think of anything but the few seconds when Dimitri has tried to kiss him.

“Nevertheless, I am glad Manuella discharged you from any rest at her infirmary. I am sorry our ride together had to end like this.”

“What exactly are you sorry for?”

Hilda doesn’t miss the bitterness in his tone. He’ll explain later.

“I wished I could have showed you what you sought for. But we had…a little mishap, if I may dare say.”

Claude can’t believe he dared. A mishap, really?

“We sure had. I must say I have my own lot to share; see, I had packed a present for your birthday that I unfortunately ruined in my careless fall. So I guess it’s fair like this, we both lost something at the end of the day.”

“I won’t be so sure about that Claude.” Dimitri says, his voice gets warmer and it feels like he stands almost a metre too far to talk like this. “Every moment that I spend with you is a treasure. I couldn’t have wished for a better birthday present than your presence alone.”

Leaving Claude, once again, speechless, Dimitri bows and goes back to his comrades, waiting for him with a warm blanket and hot tea. Claude is quickly surrounded by his own people, Leonie giving her coat and Lysithea a candy to make him feel better. At his side, even Hilda is blushing; her eyes are maddening going from him to Dimitri’s back, silently asking ‘what the fuck just happened Claude???’. But he cannot answer, not now when he’s put his mask on. Some truths, some feelings are sometimes too big, to intense to be shared, even with one’s best friend.

As Manuella suggested Claude submerges in the hot baths entirely. The warmth contrasts with everything he feels at the moment, coldness from his skin and his heart alike. It lets in memories, pleasant ones, the very moment he realizes Dimitri was about to kiss him specially turns on repeat in his head until his breath itches and desire grows. He welcomes it in, he is not alone, but he’ll take care of it later. His head is about to explode, he needs the release more than anything.

Once his shoulders are less tensed and he has put dry and clean clothes on, Claude wanders in the marketplace, treats him to his favourite teas and spices. He finds Teach here. Or, it rather seems Teach finds him.

“Do you know which one is Dimitri’s favourite?” they ask.

Of course they would invite him for tea, it kind of became a tradition with time. “It’s camomile.” He reveals. A couple of moons ago Claude would have never shared such secret, the change isn’t as unwelcomed as he thought it would be.

“Thank you. Do you know where I can find him?”

And again, if Claude had no idea of Dimitri’s whereabouts, he’s soon found by the man of the day, which is not something he had planned. Claude thought Dimitri would still be running away, and by not bringing up the subject again he knows he’s not acting any better but still, his presence can only mean two things and none of them is of his linking. Either Dimitri is finally confronting their silent issues, which Claude is very aware he kind of started at Gronder Field and he’s absolutely not ready for that, or Dimitri put everything way behind like the brazen perfect Prince he is, polishing his attire and virtue for the rest of the world and locking up all his darkness inside and well, too bad for Claude.

“Claude, are you feeling any better?”

Claude reclines on the wall to his side, his head against the stone in a very languishing pose he purposely overdoes. “Yeah, the hot bath did me great good.”

He doesn’t blink, or even stare only a second away from Dimitri’s eyes, who as Claude anticipated stands a bit perplexed and further than they used to, as if he couldn’t decide the right distance to put between them when Claude is acting like this.

“Good, good.” He says, and it’s really not what he came here for but Claude’s plan worked better than expected.

“Is that all you wanted to say? Do you need something of me? Or did you come to settle our little mishap?”

“What do you mean by that?” This is when Claude stops wondering when Dimitri will have the balls to step closer and kiss him against the wall, for he has gone with the second option – omitting, denying, looking away from the giant crack as if it wasn’t there. Claude needs a leave.

“By the way, Teach is looking for you.” He passes by him, their shoulders hit.

“Claude, please wait.” Dimitri grabs his wrist but it’s not enough, the hold isn’t desperate, it’s soft and gentle, it’s un-intense and can’t meant anything Claude would want to hear. “I realized just a moment ago I never fulfil the promise I made on your birthday. Remember, I told you I’ll give you a gift.”

“I didn’t. We’re even.”

The hold tightens. “No, we’re not. Please, my friend, may I ask for a bit more of patience? I am inexcusably late and doesn’t ask for forgiveness, but simply that you’ll accept the gift I’ll prepare for you.”

Who is Claude to refuse a birthday gift, even five moons late? There’s not a peremptory date to celebrate after all. After accepting, and reassuring Dimitri that no, he wasn’t mad at him for his carelessness, Dimitri eventually drops his wrist.

“But you’re mad at me for something else, aren’t you?” He speaks quietly. Students and guards pass by them. The whole Monastery swirls with effervescence as the ball approaches, yet for the two of them, time stopped under the rain, under Dimitri’s cape he held above their head, just before he took off the stalk out of his hair.

“Teach wants to invite you for tea, it’s going to be cold if you don’t hurry.” He turns his back before he can read what kind of expression runs on Dimitri’s face, disappointment he hopes, “They took your favourite by the way.”

To end this horrible day Claude reads Bernadetta’s last story instead of the book Hanneman gave them to read for the end of the moon, hoping it will distract his thoughts with frivolous and pleasant nonsense. But Fate truly decided to give him hell today, as Claude distinguishes clearly in the silence of the night the pattern of Dimitri’s boots hitting the floor and sees their shadow under his door. He blows on his candle, leaving his room in total darkness and puts back Bernadetta’s story on his bedtable, his breath halts.

Dimitri doesn’t knock. Instead, he remains behind the door, his gantlet against the wood. During those long seconds, Claude heartbeat resonates in his head, his chest, his throat; he forgets how to breathe as he goes through any reason Dimitri might seek for his presence in the middle of the night again – he’s not in his night robes so it’s not to sleep, does he want to talk? About what? About Teach? The ball? Their ride? Solon? Did he come back to finish what he’s started, to grasp his chin with this powerful hand of his, push him against the door and kiss him harshly, biting in his lower lip until Claude whines?

And what would Claude do if it were the case? Would he fight or welcome the tongue inside his mouth?

He stands on precipice; his bare toes are in the void. He knows he yearns for the fall, but Claude fears the landing more than anything else.

But Dimitri doesn’t deliver the final push. Claude only hears his gantlet slide on the door, and his boots walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope it doesn't show I had no idea of what Claude could have given Dimitri for his birthday.
> 
> (psst, the wait is almost over!)


	13. Etherian Moon : The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’ve heard you’ll never ask me for a dance.”
> 
> “You’ve heard?” Dimitri’s ears are turning pink already, he stares back at Claude, digging holes where his eyes land. “Where?”
> 
> “My little finger told me.”
> 
> There’s nothing but curiosity on Claude’s face, no harm feeling, and he wants Dimitri to know it. “Claude, I,” Dimitri still is confused and confusing, and he tries to explain himself, his words, when Claude knows what truth lies under already, “I didn’t mean it that…way…”
> 
> He stops at Claude‘s hand, extended, to him.
> 
> “Care to prove me wrong, then?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm never gonna dance again, guilty feet have got no rhythm, though it's easy to pretend, I know you're not a foooool.  
> Should have known better than to cheat a friend, and waste the chance that have been given,  
> So I'm never gonna dance again, the way I danced with youuu ooooh oooh  
> *saxo solo*

* * *

#### Etherian Moon

.

#### The Ball

* * *

The day of the ball arrives in the blink of an eye. The whole Monastery has been turned upside down by the nuns and priests, the kitchens are full of games and poultries and beef, potatoes cooked in the oven, at least ten different kind of fishes and as much vegetables; on the tables there are wines and beers and some alcohols Claude has never tasted before. He’s heard this is a rehearsal before the millennium anniversary of Garreg Mach’s construction, which explains why they put on a great spread – but really, with everything happening, the threat of the Flame Emperor, students and villagers disappearing, is it really wise to spend so much money on a banquet? Sure, Claude understands the necessity of the ball – show must go on as they say, it can only do good for the students’ spirit – but that much? There is an insane amount of food even Raphael and Ingrid – and even Teach! – won’t be able to absorb!

“I guess you’re happy?” They sneaked in the dining hall with Raphael, who was a bit concerned about the dinner. He had never been to such a great event and was wondering how sophisticated the buffet could be. “It’s like our old good, usual feast.”

“You bet I am! I’ll be so busy eating that I’ll have no time to dance with anybody!”

Claude doesn’t see any problem with that, after all Raphael is not a noble, there is nothing expected from him during the ball, and except if Hanneman forces them to demonstrate their talent, or lack of, in dance, there is no reason to prevent some of them to not engage in a waltz, or hide under a table, or leave for their rooms as soon as the first dance is completed. Claude thinks of Marianne, of Leonie, for who this celebration brings no joy at all – if she were to witness the obscene amount of food that would probably be wasted, Claude is sure Leonie would have a heart attack.

“So, Claude, how about we go training those thin muscles of yours?” He pinches his biceps which are, indeed, perhaps four times smaller than Raphael’s. “You’ll have to be better than last time if you want to win a fight against Dimitri by punching his face!”

“I don’t train for that purpose you know.” He feels the need to precise. “If I want a better arc, I need to strengthen by chest’s and arm’s musculature after all.”

The training ground is oddly empty; everyone else is busy with last minute preparation, be it about the dresses, jewels, dancing aptitude or finding a last-minute partner, or an excuse not to dance at all. Marianne hides in the stables, the girls teamed with the Blue Lions ones to teach Ingrid and Lysithea how to make up, with a bit of help of Dorothea and Petra, then plan on helping Ashe and Ignaz to have more confidence in themselves.

After Claude lost almost twice his weight of sweat, they end up in the sauna to regain stamina before the long night that awaits them. During their stay, Claude mostly listens to Raphael talking about how he loves his little sister, which he is much jealous of – he wonders what it would have been to have one, all his half siblings were a lot older and, well, not too friendly with him. Claude is silent, because he still can’t decide if he wants to address the subject of Raphael’s parents’ misfortune or not, considering he might have an idea of what had exactly happened. But he’s kind of curious as well, does Raphael know? And Ignaz?

And Lorenz?

Claude chooses to keep his thoughts for himself. Instead, he finally finds out about Raphael’s habit to talk to birds, which is perhaps the most absurd and cute thing he’s heard coming from him. Raphael is truly a gentle guy at heart. He’s glad they get along this well.

As they’re about to depart, their body rested and their mind at ease – though Raphael’s has never been disturbed to begin with, at times like these Claude envies him – they heard some racket outside the sauna. They run, guided by curiosity for Claude, and the will to help for Raphael, only to find Byleth holding Dimitri in their arms, who has visibly collapsed after having stayed too long in the heat.

“Dimitri!” Claude rushes to his side and kneels, he takes his face in the palms of his hands. “Are you alright?”

“Obviously not.” Teach answers, Claude is so worried he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be upset by their condescendence. “Raphael, can you bring him some water? Claude, take care of him, I’ll be looking for Manuella.”

They both leave them alone immediately, as if it ever were a good idea, but this is a knowledge he hopes none of their friends has an idea of, and especially not Teach. Claude takes Dimitri to the nearest bench and lies him down, taking his legs up and resting his calves on his shoulders. He can’t decide if the sauna’s whereabouts being so empty is a curse or a blessing, as they remain a couple of minutes in this most awkward position the time needed for Dimitri to regain consciousness. Help never seems to arrive quickly enough in those circumstances. Claude looks at his face, his reddened cheeks, Dimitri looks asleep if anything, at least he’s not suffering. His hands rest on the side of his knees.

That previous time in the hot baths where Claude has had more than the chance to openly stare at the wonder hidden under Dimitri’s tunic hadn’t revealed all his secrets, and it’s with an oddly satisfaction that he discovers the curves and muscles of Dimitri’s lower half, his thighs gaining his interest immediately. Dimitri’s attire is suited for the sauna and leaves nothing to interpretation, even if Claude has never doubted the rest of his body should match what he has already had the chance to enjoy with his eyes only. If they would probably not fit in every standards of beauty Claude finds them utterly perfect, thick and muscular, strong, reassuring; perhaps they could debate the matter with Hilda later and he isn’t sure she’ll align on his takes, but attraction isn’t an objective data, there’s beauty in everything and for everyone, and Dimitri appears to fill all of Claude’s expectation on the subject.

Fatally his eyes run along the shape of his muscles and beyond, his throat feels dry, his hands follow the path his gaze takes and brush past his thighs, pushing his short out of his way. The skin under his touch is soft, toned, and sometimes Claude can feel the ghost of an old wound, a scar, telling a story Dimitri would probably refuse to speak of. His leg jolts as Claude enters his fingers into his shorts, his eyes leave his groin that has been hypnotising his mind to come to his face, where they unexpectedly meet Dimitri’s gaze, of a darker blue than usual certainly due to the daze he still lingers in, and Claude can’t look elsewhere. His hand can’t move away either, doesn’t dare to, not until Dimitri takes a few breaths and says nothing. He says nothing, doesn’t object or push him away and his silence feels too much like a consent to pursue Claude’s exploration. His thumb caresses his inner thigh; Dimitri lets out a sigh, leaving Claude in an extremely hot mess.

“Your Highness!” Sylvain takes the stairs two at a time with Felix and Raphael, along with a jar of fresh water that might as well have landed on both their faces, since their arrival broke the eerie state they were in and reminds them of their anatomic situation. Claude almost drops Dimitri’s legs on the bench, unceremoniously. “Ah, good to see you’re doing well.”

If Raphael has felt something was a bit off but couldn’t put his finger on, Felix crosses his arms against his chest and doesn’t move from his place in front of the stairs with something like disgust on his face.

After he’s taken a safe seat, Dimitri takes the jar and drinks abundantly. “Thank you, it was nothing but a vagal. I can’t bear this much heat I’m afraid.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think you’re looking for an excuse to skip the ball!” Sylvain, somehow, turns to him and sends him a wink. Claude blinks. What was that for? “In any cases, we’re all glad you’re doing better.”

Then Teach along with Manuella joins their group, taking Dimitri with them as they bring him to the infirmary despite his protest, since he is nothing but fine, says he. Claude watches him go, watches his back and lower, the back of his thighs; how good would it feel to leave a kiss there, or better, a mark of his teeth, a new kind of scar?

Sylvain suddenly puts an arm on his shoulder. “You’re going to make me a really rich man, you know that?”

Again, he doesn’t know what this is for, but Claude gets the feeling he’ll know by the end of the night.

Once in his room, Claude leans on his door. He hits his skull a couple of time. “Dammit!” he pesters, he let his mind wander in places that are forever forbidden to him, and this is perhaps why it feels so good to succumb to his desire. Those few seconds with Dimitri have reduced the benefit of an hour in the sauna to naught, since his mind and body are now tensed once more. Claude lies on his bed under the sheets, take off his shorts and muffles his mouth against his pillow. He’s hard even without touching himself, he spits on his hand once, bites on the pillow and moves quickly. He hushes his moans, closes his eyes as he imagines a hand that isn’t his stroking him, and his hand on Dimitri, and Dimitri’s mouth on his neck, biting, leaving bruises Claude will have to hide the day after. He imagines his powerful hands on his hair, pulling it, harshly, brutally, and he’s ashamed of how quickly he comes this time and how hard.

His hand is dirty, his mind is still, too; he stinks and his body sweats. What a waste of time. He needs to pay another visit to the hot baths, hoping he’ll find an excuse as to why he has gone twice within the same hour – an abusive use of cologne might be a safe bet.

Time seems to fly as the opening of the ball comes close. In his room Claude adjusts some clean clothes, puts on his boots, does his braid with a lace Hilda gave him the day before; he’s ready, at least physically, yet it’s difficult to get out of his room.

He’s not sure he’s ready for what’s to come.

On his desk Claude disposed a letter he has been waiting for weeks, from Judith, and her investigation about his uncle’s death hasn’t been infructuous. He has lost his life on a bright afternoon, on his way back to Deridue after a visit to Count Gloucester, along with merchants who turned out to be Raphael’s parents - and now that Judith confirmed they were killed during the attack that took his uncle’s life as well, the identity of the person behind this tragedy is no secret for Claude, and revealing it might destabilize the harmony that works within their class. Bandits had been attacking that road a couple of days prior, oddly only travellers coming this way, letting Claude thinks there was a pattern, a scheme used, and crimes commissioned. The attacks stopped as soon as his uncle died; was it because of the attention the road gained or because their objective had been attained, there was no way to tell, for the events were too old but Judith, as well as her close confidents, has enough clues to point those events to one and only greedy man, who had the mobile, the opportunity, and the money required.

And Claude has spent more than half a year sitting next to his son during classes.

If Count Gloucester went this far to secure his son the head of the Alliance, Claude must be twice as precautious if he doesn’t want his head to roll on the ground as well. Why did he need to have such big dreams? He remembers Judith’s words the day he entered Garreg Mach; _‘Beware of the Gloucester boy.’_ She said. But Lorenz is safe, he’s not like his father, he has been indoctrinated into this highly improbable truth that nobility is above everything else in terms of virtue and worth, but has not learned his father’s idiosyncrasy, his dirty tricks and insatiable pride and envy. Befriending Lorenz has never felt more important than now, since it is clear his father has no problem killing off a Riegan or two. At least he’s safe here, in the Monastery; the real deal will start after the end of his year, and not until his grandfather dies.

Claude takes a deep sigh; those kinds of dark thoughts have nothing to do here, on a day like this, not before the only ball of the year. After all, his worried can wait. He’ll worry tomorrow.

He knocks on Hilda’s door, he’s early so she must be far from being ready, she should still be here. “A moment please!” she yells and opens the door a minute later. “Oh, it’s only you.”

Claude sighs. “Thank you for the ego boost.”

“As if you need any.”

She lets him in. Her room is a mess, Claude never knew they could bring so much clothes – Hilda’s are scattered on her floor and bed just like his books, he can’t even walk on the floor without stepping on some fabric. “You’re gorgeous by the way.”

Hilda is back in front of her desk, putting on some last minute make up. “Oh, thank you. I hope you don’t come here to walk me to the ball Claude, I told you I was going with Lorenz.”

“I know.” Yet deep inside he had hoped it was only a bad joke, to make him pay for what Hilda considered to be his ultimate stupidity, and it perhaps started simply as that, but Claude has to accept the truth; he lost, and to none but Lorenz, and by none but Hilda, his best friend.

“So, you’re going alone?” She asks. He doesn’t care. It will be another abnormality, another _exotic_ caprice of his.

“I’m afraid I am.”

“Is it because you’re still hoping Dimitri will have a last moment burst of courage and ask you out? Since you, obviously, don’t have the balls yourself.”

“No, it’s a well thought choice.” He sits on a dress she’ll obvious not wear today. “I don’t plan on talking to him tonight to be honest.” He can’t tell her more, because for some reasons during the couple of last days he had found himself unable to talk to her about what happened, or rather what didn’t, during their horse ride. It’s not that he fears her outburst, he’s used to them by now, or that he does not need comfort, because he does, so desperately, but somehow the scene messed his head so much it can’t get past his throat.

“But you’ll have to! After all, aren’t the house leaders supposed to open the ball?”

Oh, he had forgotten about this little detail.

Which means he truly needs a partner. Right now.

Someone knocks on the door. “Hilda? Are you ready?” it’s Lorenz, and he so rightly looks amused when Claude opens him the door. “Claude, good evening my friend. I am utterly thankful that you let me choose my partner first.”

Claude forces a smile. “Oh, trust me Lorenz, I had no word on the matter. It’s just another caprice of her Gorgeousness.” He eyes Hilda severely, which she replies by a stinking out her tongue.

“Don’t listen to him Lorenz, you’re a fantastic dancer.”

“I know, and you make the perfect match for me. Now, let’s all go to the reception hall.”

And the three of them exit the room, Hilda and Lorenz arms in arms, and he doesn’t know why but the sight sends him a shiver down his spine, a shiver of terror.

As they descent the stairs his own arm is assaulted and taken by an opportunist friend of his. “Claude.”

“Dorothea!” She wears the dancer outfit she won at the White Heron Cup with a couple of jewels Hilda made for her last moon, Claude recognized them. “What a pleasure to see you, and at this precise moment. Am I to bring you to the ball?”

“You might. I heard you were short of one partner.”

“You heard correctly.” Claude stops wondering how he’s the centre of every gossip a couple of moons ago. “And you?”

“Oh, you know, I had perhaps dated half of the nobles that were decent enough to be looked at, so I didn’t have much of a choice.”

“I heard you were quite picky. How many times did Ferdinand ask for your favours?”

“Oh, don’t remind me, I stopped counting after the fourth time and it was a moon ago.”

Claude laughs, chatting with Dorothea is always vivifying. On top of knowing half the gossips running in the Monastery she always has a clever word against nobility in general, and some of their nobles friends in particular – Ferdinand is obvious her favourite whipping boy, but Lorenz and Sylvain aren’t outdone, and it is even funnier that she shares her point with him since she knows how close the four of them are, at variant degrees.

“So, do I have to conclude I am of your liking?” He teases, they both know the answer to that, even if the matter has never been brought up.

She looks at him head to toes. “You’re okay, I guess. I don’t think I can do any better in less than a minute anyway. Oh, please, walk slower.”

They practically tread water as Ferdinand and Petra pass by them, Dorothea hiding behind Claude – well, barely, she’s as tall as he with her heels. He looks quite content of his match even if it hasn’t been his first choice, but then, when has Claude seen him unenthusiastic?

“I never thought he’d go with Petra. Did he ask Edelgard?” He inquires as the pair goes further enough to talk safely.

“Oh no. Poor Edie had her match found by her uncle.” Lord Arundel? Why? “Possibly for wedding purpose.”

“I am glad my grandfather hasn’t forced me to dance with an heir of a strong noble family to strengthen our position. How ridiculous does that sound?”

“Nobles have to have some duties, otherwise it’s not funny.” Dorothea says lightly, they resume their walk to the reception hall. “But you’re a man, you’ll be luckier than us. Believe me, the worst combination is woman, noble, crests and poverty. Look at what’s happening to Ingrid.”

Claude frowns, this is an information that hasn’t reached his ears – and to be honest, he probably would not care. As they approach the entrance they salute some of their classmates, Hilda and Lorenz having already disappeared inside the ball room, and Claude can’t help but hold Dorothea’s arm tighter when his eyes fall on Dimitri waiting at the entrance. Hopefully he hasn’t been seen yet.

“So, who are the other couples?” He asks to divert his attention.

Dorothea has spent the day with half the Blue Lions class and so has a few information Claude hasn’t. To his surprise, Sylvain has chosen to go with Mercedes, or rather she agreed to accompany him – but then Claude remembers in which arms he took refuge after what happened to his brother, and it does make more sense than, for example, Felix and Annette – and Ingrid and Ashe, but this one he does understand as well.

“Yet, oddly the couple that was on everyone’s lips seems to be absent tonight.” She giggles at his bemused face. They are almost at the door, and there’s no way Dimitri hasn’t seen him already, and Claude watches Dorothea’s laugh not to look ahead and see blue eyes on him. She leans to his ear, her hand covering her mouth as she murmurs, “Sylvain started at bet a week ago, saying you and Dimitri were to dance together tonight.”

And of course this is the moment his eyes automatically search for him, after hearing his name, and his tall blond head is impossible to miss in the crowd – he’s already staring at them, a bit dumbfounded if Claude has to bet, and he can easily understand why if, indeed, Hilda’s prediction turns to be right. How surprised he must be not to see him at Hilda’s side.

With a bit of lateness Claude bursts out of laughing, he’ll say later it was the time he needed to proceed the information for how absurd it was. “Really? That’s a good one.”

“Yeah! I told him he was digging his own grave. But he kind of seems so sure of himself…”

They pass by Dimitri, and Claude sort of halts.

“Claude, may I speak with you for a minute?”

He’ll never get tired of the way he says his name.

“Of course.” Dorothea is already letting go of his arm. “I’ll follow you.”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have bet against him, hn?” she says, which almost makes Claude choke – Dimitri is right here for Goddess’ sake! – but the moment he wishes to retort, Dorothea already has vanished in the ball room.

They walk silently to the gardens. None of them speak of what their heart are full of. Dimitri visibly looks confused, which Claude feels really sorry for, and as for Claude he’s so anxious to know if Dimitri followed his plan and asked Teach out that his throat feels sore; and it is harrowing how they have never been so close and yet so far, giving Claude the uneasy feeling a step forward could bring them so close to kiss once again, but one backward will lose them forever. They have never been more fragile than the moment their feelings shine the most.

“I wanted to give you this before the ball.”

Dimitri goes straight to the point and in his hand lies a tiny object wrapped in what seems to be a page of a book, and a white ribbon.

“Oh,” Claude doesn’t know what to say. It’s the latest birthday gift he has ever received, but for some reason it’s one he’ll treasure forever. “Thank you. I never thought you’d be so quick.”

“It took me some time, but I worked hard. It is, unfortunately, not perfect, and really I think you do deserve better, but due to my foolishness and as I stubbornly refused to give it to you after today, I’m afraid my skill only permitted me to do this much. I hope it will be okay with you, and that you won’t want to throw it away so soon, and that you’ll let me do better next time.”

Claude smiles shyly, he holds the gift in his hand. “Wait, is it…” The shape is unmistakable, Claude unwraps his gift right away to reveal what he has guessed. A chess piece, a king, a white king. Claude stands, speechless, his jaw wide opened to this most pleasant surprise. The finishing touches are indeed rough and hazardous at times, Claude knows too well Dimitri isn’t good with works that demand precision and delicacy, but he really outdid himself here. If not pretty and smooth as his other pieces, his white king stands out by size and the feelings Dimitri put inside.

“I told you it is nothing worth your standard.”

“What!? No! No please Dimitri this is…I don’t even know what to say. It’s perfect. I love it.”

“Really?” Dimitri hides his smile, drops his head to the side. “I’m glad then.” He speaks lower.

“How did you have such a brilliant idea?”

“Well, I kind of knew you lacked one piece and I thought, since you enjoy it so much, each time you’ll have the chance to play chess after you leave the Monastery would make you think of me.”

Claude drops his arms to his side, the king almost falls to the ground.

“I mean the time we played together. Playing chess. I mean, I didn’t mean you have to think of me each time you play.” Both their faces are red by now. “I should go back inside.”

“Wait, Dimitri!” But Dimitri rushes past him without turning back, and somehow this is for the best. This is perhaps the most romantic gift he has ever been given, and if at some point Claude thought he would be gifted yet another dagger – but Dimitri knows he already has one – this is not something he has anticipated; it’s something he needs, enjoys, that will make him think of Dimitri always, even when he’s an old man and his hands shake with senility. It’s handmade, it’s thoughtful, it’s purely beautiful.

Claude leans on the wall behind, the white king to his chest and rarely has he felt so flustered in his entire life. Dimitri wanted to give him a souvenir of them, wants him to remember him even after they part and if only he knew there is no way Claude won’t think about him every day, every hour, hoping for a prompt reunion where they could play again.

“Claude? The party is kind of starting.” Dorothea reaches him, a hand on her hip. “Don’t tell me I lost my bet.”

“Oh, no don’t worry. Dimitri just gave me my birthday present five moons late.”

“Oh, so he has some flaws, I see, not really on time. Doesn’t explain why you’re hiding like a maiden who would have had her first kiss stolen.” Claude frowns, he’s about to retort he was six the first time he’s kissed anyone when Dorothea speaks again. “Oh, is it a chess piece? The one you lost to Hubbie! How thoughtful of him.” She smiles deeply, to which he responds equally with dry wit.

“Shall we go then?” He offers his arm, which she takes, and they both walk to the ball room once more. 

Who would have thought the reception hall to be so big deprived of the benches and tables? Everyone already has a glass in hand, is it champagne? Or something less sophisticated? They’re barely students, some are too young to drink so much alcohol, do they really expect them to behave when it’s the first time they can unwind all together?

Dorothea hums a red rose; they are scattered in the whole room. As he scans the area Claude spots all their friends, they seem to have fun with their hands full, of food mostly, or their partner’s hand, and then there’s Leonie with a glass of champagne, who has sworn to taste everything to decide if it was a huge waste of money or not.

Of course he sees Teach, and Dimitri, and they are on the opposite sides of the room and Dimitri has someone else at under his arm – a girl Claude barely recognizes, she’s a noble from the Kingdom but apart from that, she’s pretty but pretty insipid as well – and he feels the air in his lung again, circulating freely as an immense weight has been left from his chest. They obvious aren’t going to dance together, which means either Teach turned him down, which he kind of regrets, or, better hypothesis, Dimitri never asked. Be it because Hilda’s been right since the very beginning – and when has she been wrong? – and it was only a scheme to make him jealous, and not what Dimitri truly wanted, or because just like Claude’s feelings for him, the ones Dimitri harbour for Byleth were too big to let him act as he wished to.

According to his plan that demands to be as far as possible from Dimitri, at all times, without looking like he is avoiding him, Claude wanders to the buffet next to Teach, knowing Dimitri would never venture there, not after what he told him. “Hey Teach! You look radiant tonight.” Which they don’t reply to since their mouth is already full of food. Claude smiles back. After all they are dressed like they usually do, they put no effort for today’s ball, not that they need to, but it tells a lot about who they are trying to impress. Which is no one. And it’s another information Claude will keep close to his heart.

The violinists are now all in position, tuning up one after the others; Claude looks for Dorothea who is still chatting with Ingrid and Ashe. “Hey beauty, it’s our time to shine now.”

But to his surprise, Dorothea shakes her head. “I’m afraid I can’t join you my dear, the first dance is for _nobles_ only, a commoner like me can’t open the ball with you.”

Another disillusion. “And you couldn’t have said it sooner?!” Claude never hated the Church’s stupid hierarchy so much than now.

To his horror the musicians start to play. Dimitri and Edelgard open the ball with their partner, along with nobles who wished to dance as soon as possible – and none is surprised to see Lorenz and Ferdinand on the dancefloor already. For a moment, as his eyes follow Dimitri and see Edelgard brushing past his back, Claude wonders if they are going to dance together. Last time was with her, right? They were so little and yet, the memories are still vivid and cherished in Dimitri’s heart. Perhaps he has asked her, too, but his plan got cancelled by his own uncle. He wonders how dear these memories are to her.

It seems he isn’t the only one interested in their dance, or history; Teach seems absorbed as they watched both Royalty dance around each other. “Hey, Teach, come on.” He knows it is forbidden by protocol, but damn the rules! They are here to have fun, aren’t they? Claude winks, and takes Teach’s hand who doesn’t fight back, and they are dragged for a waltz.

It turns out, surprisingly, that Teach is not so good at dancing. But they are a quick learner and Claude likes to think of himself as a fantastic teacher. By the end of the first waltz, they dance rather naturally and all eyes are on them; yet Claude can only feel the insistent gaze of Dimitri’s blue eyes, accusing, insulted, betrayed, and for a minute Claude tries to imagine what is going inside his head. Actually, things would be easier if he knew most of the time what Dimitri was thinking, like during their ride when he leaned to kiss him and then ran away, or all the nights he came to sleep in his arms and was gone without a word but thanks the morning after. And no, Claude is not angry, at least not anymore, because he truly fears the landing and he’s glad Dimitri isn’t giving him yet a reason to jump into the void.

It’s manageable, barely, it’s deliciously unstable.

After the dance is over Claude excuses himself for his boldness, but no one comes to reprimand him. Worst, everyone come to ask Teach for a dance, and soon Byleth is taken away by half the Blue Lion class asking for their attention. Claude finds Dorothea again, with who he dances part of the night, before Hilda eventually steals some of his time, then Lysithea, and Petra and Annette. After two hours of intense dancing, Claude feels the need to breathe some fresh air before eating something, and he’s seen Caspar and Raphael on the other side of the ball room with an empty chair waiting for him.

The night is clear of clouds and the moon is bright, so bright, it illuminates the Monastery as much as the sun at dawn. If it weren’t that cold, Claude would gladly stay there or climb on a roof to count the stars and compares to the ones he’s got back home. He isn’t the only one escaping from the festivities it seems, to his despair, as Dimitri has taken a pause as well, sitting on a bench in front of his classroom. A part of Claude wants to reach out, to sit next to him and listens to his complains, his pain and regrets, because he looks so down and melancholic tonight, but he fears his actions and stubbornness are to blame, partly, if not more. Footsteps come from the other way and Dimitri stands up. It’s Teach. Perfect timing.

Claude isn’t sure he should stay.

“Professor, what are you doing here?”

It seems obvious both were avoiding the same thing, just like Claude – the crowd, the attention.

“Aren’t you going to dance with Claude?”

Hopefully the distance, along with Dimitri’s laugh, hides Claude’s outburst from the two of them. How did they come with this idea? This was utterly ridiculous! Unless…unless Dimitri told them something, or Byleth guessed. Have they heard about Sylvain’s bet?

Oh, he must find him. They need to have a word.

“Haha, good one Professor. I could see saving a dance for Edelgard, but Claude is another story.” Dimitri replies, which is not a surprise but still, the tone he uses twists something in his stomach, an ache that reveals Claude would have liked him to say something else, or at least differently – as he blushes and turns his head to the side for example, something he does willingly when he’s in front of Claude only. “In any case, I have no intention of dancing with anyone.”

Perhaps his guess was true, perhaps Dimitri really has no intention to dance, with anyone, not even Teach and had never had. Perhaps this day when he took him by the wrist and sought for help about how to ask someone for a dance, he was looking for clues of how Claude would like to be asked and not general advices, a plan that sounds directly out of Sylvain’s brain in hindsight. Perhaps he was going to ask him, truly, but renounced last minute because of Hilda and what he thought was true, and this is perhaps why he had stopped a breath away from his lips, for he was certain Claude’s heart to be already taken and had no intention of breaking what he considered to be an evidence.

And finding out he has been wrong the whole time, and his prudence has been for naught, if not worse, Dimitri doesn’t want to dance anymore.

“As a child, Edelgard taught me how to dance. It was…a bit awkward, honestly.”

“Edelgard?”

Claude stays a bit longer, listening as Dimitri tells the story of his childhood that he already told Claude last moon before they drank the poisoned tea. He remembers every details he’s been told, very clearly, and since memory loss has never been part of the side effects of any potions that were left on his secret box, he starts to wonder how much Dimitri truly forgot, as what he almost slipped during their ride a couple of days ago lit the spark of suspicion. Dimitri is indeed a bit bigger and has drunk more tea than he, but he fell asleep after Claude in the end; the side effects must have been the same, if not less powerful on his strong body. Something was off, since the very beginning but it has also been really practical at the same time, which was why Claude chose to ignore it, hid the truth to keep looking at Dimitri in the eyes without trembling, so they could still pretend to ignore how good it feels to touch and kiss the other, and refrain the attempt to try again. This could very well be what ran in Dimitri’s mind as he woke up, way before Claude did, on a room he didn’t recognize, in a bed that wasn’t his and with a friend curled on top of him, shirtless.

After all, didn’t Claude come to the same conclusion? To act as if nothing had happened has been their best option, at least for a while or so Claude has thought; but now that their secrets were begging to be revealed to the other, and weren’t that secret anymore, what was the point in hiding?

For Dimitri he sees none. For him, however, if they could pretend Claude never spoke in Almyrian that night it would be of great help.

Claude leaves them with a smile on his face nonetheless, as he realizes the secrets Dimitri shares tonight, away from prying eyes to their favourite professor, are already known to him, and him only.

That makes him feel special.

Back inside Claude spends his time eating and drinking with his friends, and they are plenty. They dance together with Hilda and Dorothea again, and once with Lysithea and Marianne – which is her sole dance, a detail he’ll be proud for a long time, especially with how jealous it made Lorenz. On the other side of the room Ferdinand, who looks like he had a drink too many, enters into a heated argument with Hubert, to which Edelgard flees subtly as Caspar tries to contain Ferdinand’s fists away from Hubert’s face, and the rest of the assemble laughs at the scene. On another side, Annette and Mercedes are desperately trying to find a partner to dance with Ingrid, but all are refused. The only missing thing in the picture is Sylvain hitting on girls, which is highly surprising and regrettable, since Claude would have liked to have a word with him about the stupid bet he started behind their back.

When eventually Claude really can’t find him, he asks Mercedes. “Oh! I think he went to the Goddess Tower.”

Oh, maybe he did hit on some girls after all, or is waiting for one. How unhappy would he be to see Claude arrives to his rescue instead, or worse, to end his date a little bit too soon? The plan is too excise not to be fulfilled.

Claude announces his departure with a carefree smile on his face everyone falls for, everyone but Hilda who doesn’t send it back. She runs after him once he’s outside, as she has somehow managed to escape from Lorenz’s grip. “Claude.”

The gravity of her voice, a beautiful absurdity, makes him halt. “It’s not like you to seem so down in a middle of a ball. What’s gotten you? Is it because of Lorenz?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually having quite more fun than I expected.” She walks to the top of the stairs, Claude stands a step below, their head are on the same level for once. “You know what they say about the Goddess Tower and this particularly night, right?”

Claude sighs deeply, he’s the reason of her sadness and he knows why. “I do.” He says simply, hoping she will get the picture and not push any further.

“Is that why you’re going?”

“I, no, there is really something I need to talk to Sylvain about.”

“If it’s about the bet then you don’t. No one is still thinking about it. It was just a joke for most of us, but I think Sylvain tried to make Dimitri react, or give him an opportunity to ask you for a dance in front of everyone, if he had liked to.”

Another waste possibility. They were full of them.

“When a man and a woman reunite in the Goddess Tower the night of the ball, they can make their wish come true.” Hilda says, she holds his hands. “Let me come with you. We’ll wish for your bright future.”

“Hilda, it’s adorable.” Oh, how much he adores her. “But I don’t think the legend works for people like us. And you’d need to make your own wish after all! You wouldn’t want to lose it to someone like me.”

“First of all, how dare you!?” She slaps his shoulder, okay, he deserves this, “You’re absolutely worth all my wishes Claude von Riegan, and I’ll fight anyone who makes you think you aren’t! And you have no idea of how terrible it is to, just, watch you two! Have you seen the way he looked at you tonight, as you danced with me, or Dorothea?”

As difficult as it is to believe Claude has, in fact, not diverted his eyes from his partner’s, missing in full knowledge a couple of details his usual observation skill would have never, and which could have brought him as much joy and sadness, frustration at best of knowing he was wanted, and that this ugly feeling of jealousy isn’t something reserved for him.

“You’re so, tiresome to watch, you two, you have no idea.” Hilda complains still, her hands curled into fist and hitting, softly, on his torso. “I’ve never seen you so happy than when you’re with him or thinking about him and you’re so stubbornly refusing this happiness to enter your life for a stupid, stupid presentiment!”

“Hey, hey, calm down, will you?” Claude takes her hands off his chest, a smile on his face. “You’ll damage your nails.”

“Claude! You’re just, so frustrating to be friend with!”

And he wants nothing but for Hilda to remain ignorant of each dirty trick, each scheme that threats his existence already, for Claude simply breathing Foldan’s air seems to be too much to handle for a handful of people, without them knowing how close he got to Fearghus’s heir, and how it will destabilized their whole political chess board. Except for their close friends - well, not all – none would see their affair as a good omen.

Her last hit lands on something hard that was never supposed to be here. “Hm? What’s this?” Claude as no choice but to unwrap Dimitri’s gift which he so carefully hid from her view; there’s no way she’ll let him go with that one, but again, when did she?

“Dimitri gave it to me earlier. Pretty isn’t it?”

“Pretty? This?” She takes the small object in her hand, her face quite disgusted, “He could have bought you something better.”

“It’s hand made.”

“See, already defending your boyfriend.” Hilda turns the white king upside down. “Oh my, he even crafted his crest on the bottom. Seems you’ll be his white king forever, how romantic.”

Claude, who has been too flustered to study his gift more than giving it a simple glance when not absolutely sure he wouldn’t be interrupted, tries to it steal away from Hilda’s grip. “You’re lying. Let me see.”

“Oh, it looks like my lipsticks here. There should be a mechanism-Hey!” Claude finally catches his piece and indeed, here it is. Blaiddyd’s crest, painted in royal blue and gold powder. Claude feels weak in the knees. “I know why you’re so disastrous with your love life. You’re still a child.”

“Aren’t we all?” Claude puts the white king back where it belongs, close to his heart. “You should go back, Lorenz will hate me if you disappear from his sight too much – and trust me, you want me in his good papers.” He jokes, barely.

“Oh, please. He spent the whole night talking about my _older_ _brother_ , or _Marianne_. I’m so done with him, I’d rather dance with Dorothea if you’d allow me to.”

Marianne really? The night has yet many secrets to reveal.

After he gives her his blessing and entrusts his partner to her, Claude heads to the Goddess Tower. He walks on the bridge before taking the steps leading to the Cathedral, not stopping to enjoy the view, the music from the ball loud enough to cover the sounds of his steps on the empty building.

Well, not so empty it seems.

There are still a couple of candles lightening the place, even tonight when everyone is gathered in the ball room or is supposed to. Claude advances until he reaches the middle of the nave and turns to his left where his feet should have bring him if he were to go to the Goddess Tower. Yet in front of him stands an impassable obstacle, with a royal blue cape and only sadness readable on his face; Dimitri has his back turned to him and gazes longingly to where Claude was heading before his plans were thwarted by none but his Princely presence, a hand on the half opened door. Claude approaches soundlessly. He’s still not really sure this is the cleverest thing to do but he can’t help it, Dimitri attracts him effortlessly still, and Claude has long surrendered on this weakness of his. He halts at a safe distance, but which still permits him to see what makes Dimitri so distraught.

The Goddess Tower is, as expected, not so empty as well. But the surprise comes from who are talking there; Sylvain and Teach.

Which arouses the obvious question: if Claude has come here in hopes of tricking Sylvain, what is Dimitri doing here?

“I have to admit I’ll have never bet on Sylvain,” Dimitri jumps hearing his voice, he hasn’t seen it coming. “Hats off to him.”

“You did dance with them first; it is hardly an achievement.”

“Are you suggesting I’m a poor choice?”

Dimitri sighs, visibly annoyed and tired. “Of course not. You’re reading everything wrong.”

There’s nothing Claude wants more than dissecting what is going on in Dimitri’s mind at the moment. This whole moon has been a succession of misunderstandings, the latest bigger than the previous ones; and after a second thought it has, in fact, started even before – they have acted differently around the other since what happened at Gronder field, and Dimitri’s hand holding his wrist tightly to the ground, and Claude’s bloody mouth on his cheek. Before, they have been linked by political necessity, then common values and with time, friendship, a bond essential and fragile, the most difficult to maintain. And on top of that bond that allowed them to work together so perfectly after they found their balance came the touches, the warmth, the yearning and frustrated sighs, the groans, his hand on his groin with eyes closed, the moans, the physical attraction so universal and yet so easy to dismiss, for someone as stoic and rational as Claude, who was so sure he would never let something so bestial overpower him and his candid dreams. They became tensed around each other the more they realized what their body wanted and fought against it; they became clumsy, careless, cruel even, hurting the other to make the want go away.

But these are nothing but the thoughts in Claude’s head. And here, he is still wondering what Dimitri is doing here, imagining he might be running after Teach, again, and the sadness he can read on his face must only be the symptom of his disillusion to have found the object of his heart’s desire with someone else; because he has never needed Dimitri to not like him back than now, as he feels the weight of his gift which bares his crest and of the stare he’s been given. Claude of course is too young to know most things, and especially when they can’t be learned by reading a book but only from experience, and he doesn’t have a lot as long as love is concerned; there are a few emotions that can only be enhanced by love, and often they tend to be of unhappiness and of equal ardour. His youth is the only reason why Claude can only see the deception in Dimitri’s eyes, the anger, the frustration and fears their intensity, and misses the love hidden behind, yet as obvious and absolute, that Dimitri has nurtured for him in the past few moons.

When one doesn’t want to see the obvious, even when all the signs point in the same direction, one always finds excuses to stay blind to the truth.

“So, what are you doing here? Weren’t you supposed to dance with Teach? Were you searching for them?” Claude pursuits his vain chase of a ghost, an enemy that exists only in his head, a formidable opponent fighting for Dimitri’s attention, when he has no rival to begin with, since the very beginning; and he’s unaware how much his bitterness, his provocation, fuelled by his own jealousy and thought unrequired love, is only hurting the one that makes his heart bleeds with each glance he spares on someone else.

“I…didn’t bother asking.” Dimitri replies, because after all he owns him an explanation for this scene. “I figured out the Professor didn’t care about such matter and chose not to make a fool of myself; but judging by your performance tonight, I guess I overthought it, once more.”

“Doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here.” Claude insists.

“As surprising as it sounds, I am here to pray.”

Oh, well, they do stand in the Cathedral after all. Claude suddenly feels extremely dumb.

“And you? I’m almost a hundred per cent sure you have not such nobles’ intents.”

Actually, his aren’t so bad either. “I’m looking for Sylvain. I have a few questions for him. Are you aware of the rumour he started last week?”

Dimitri turns his head to the side, his fists curl, “I’m afraid I am.”

Was it a challenge then, more than a bet? Has it always been Sylvain’s aim to loosen up his future King enough for him to ask Claude for a dance?

“Well, there’s no need to talk about it any further.” Claude doesn’t quite know what to say, what to add, for the conversation to resume. In the background they can still hear Sylvain and Teach talking, and the music from the ball, and the laughter of their friends; and if Claude hadn’t drunk any champagne at all tonight perhaps he would have called it a night and headed to his room. But he knows he had one cup too many.

“I’ve heard you’ll never ask me for a dance.”

“You’ve heard?” Dimitri’s ears are turning pink already, he stares back at Claude, digging holes where his eyes land. “Where?”

“My little finger told me.”

There’s nothing but curiosity on Claude’s face, no harm feeling, and he wants Dimitri to know it. “Claude, I,” Dimitri still is confused and confusing, and he tries to explain himself, his words, when Claude knows what truth lies under already, “I didn’t mean it that…way…”

He stops at Claude‘s hand, extended, to him.

“Care to prove me wrong, then?”

It’s another challenge, a dare, but this time it’s just between them and there’s no witness but the Goddess Herself. Those seconds when Claude waits in agony for a respond, a move from Dimitri are the longest he’s ever bear with since the day he was born, and this is all the more true when his heart flutters with sentiment of love and longing, and is scared of even the tiniest rejection, not knowing if he’ll handle one, or if the moment Dimitri would take his hand in response it wouldn’t explode with how full his approbation would make it.

It is not what happens though when Dimitri takes off his gantlets. Claude simply isn’t sure how to breathe anymore. After putting them on a bench he walks to Claude, his steps assured, entwines their fingers as his other hand rests on the low of Claude’s back. A bit behind, Claude closes his fingers on his, and his remaining arm curl around his waist.

He can’t hear the music from the ball room anymore, for his heart beats too loud in his ears.

“Would you do me the honour of letting me lead the dance?” Dimitri asks so formally. The way their hands are placed leaves no room to another plan anyway. Claude nods, not trusting his voice, and they dance.

It looks nothing like the couple of steps they did in preparation of the White Heron Cup. Here Dimitri is confident, his hand isn’t crushing his, the one on his back is warm and nothing but shy as it presses their body closer, almost touching, and he leads the waltz superbly. Claude just has to follow his steps smoothly, which he does, his heels hit the Cathedral’s floor and resonate with Dimitri’s boots. Each swing makes his head spin, a blissful vertigo; the more they dance the closest his feet get closer to the void and Dimitri brings him to a foreign territory, one of danger and love and rewards and sacrifices, one he never imagined he would have to decide if he wishes to enter or not.

Soon Claude can’t resist the warmth, and as their eyes never divert to one another he leans closer, the hold of his hand morphs into something somehow more intimate, tender, sensual even, the hand on Dimitri’s waist climbs to his back and shoulder blade, their chest touch and Dimitri swings quicker.

They spin, again, and again; their feet never trip, their hands never part, they never blink. They reach the middle of the nave just where the windows let a ray of moonlight hit their face, and Claude loses his breath again when he stares at Dimitri’s face, immaculate, utterly perfect, kind and honest, and if he could tear off his heart from his chest and give it to him at this very moment, he would.

They’ve danced too quickly. Both their head spin, they need a rest. Claude halts first, he’s breathless without knowing why. He can’t move away from Dimitri’s embrace, the warmth from his chest is addicting, the hold of his hand dissuasive.

“Tell me now,” Dimitri speaks first, and his voice is steady as if he isn’t affected by what had just happened, as if dancing with Claude hasn’t occupied his days’ and nights’ dreams, as if his mind was still functioning correctly, “Are you going to play the deer again and leaving me behind, alone and miserable?”

“Miserable?” Claude repeats the word as if they had been spoken in a foreign language.

Dimitri pushes their body together, “Isn’t it why you wanted a dance? To lure me into your game once more, to mess with my perception of reality before breaking all my hopes as you’ll flee away from my grip?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It is time Claude gets back to his sense, and stops being distracted by Dimitri’s mouth, and lips, and how close they are to his. “And you’re the one to talk.” Does he have to remind him of his nocturnal nonsense?

“Come on, do I have to draw you a picture?” His grip tightens on his hand, hard; there’s a crack and Claude hopes his fingers aren’t broken – the thought doesn’t seem to cross Dimitri’s mind, or worse, it does and he doesn’t care – yet he finds himself weirdly endeared to his sudden furry.

“Is it about tonight?” Dimitri grunts to show his approval. “About the fact you thought I was going to the ball with Hilda?” A nod this time, Claude feels like bursting out of laughing. It is a joke, right? A prank Hilda made for him, it is too perfect, it is exactly all her predictions and uncoherent theories about Dimitri. “I’m afraid you can’t blame anyone but yourself for this one. I never told anyone we were going together.”

“I know.” Dimitri mutters. They look like ten-year-olds and they both don’t notice. “But everything you did, and said, you tricked me into it.”

“Of course not!” Claude gets away from his embrace because it is getting too much, too intense, Dimitri’s strength, his aura, his body, his stare, he can’t handle so much at once. “Everything you saw was just horrible hazards pilled to one another. I never wanted to give you that impression. I am sorry if I did.”

Dimitri lets out a laugh of frustration only, his eyes are on the ceiling, “Ah, how convenient. You deny everything without proofs to provide your claims.”

“Hilda is my best friend.” Claude brings his hand to his forehead, in front of him Dimitri comes and goes in the middle of the nave, while he has found some space near the pillars on the right of the Cathedral. “You don’t have to be jealous of her, I don’t like her like that.”

“Like what?”

Claude gasps. He usually never does.

But what he let escaped just now is just too big not to.

“You don’t like her _like what,_ Claude?” Dimitri repeats, and there’s as much anger as there is hope in his voice. He has halted, his hands free of his gantlet still tightly close, his eyes looking for Claude, begging for his presence. “Please, tell me!” He orders, more than asks, “I don’t think I can bear any more seconds of this game you’re playing with me.”

Claude stands bemused for a second too long as the puzzle assembles in front of him effortlessly and paints the picture, beautiful and painful at the same time, of Dimitri asking without saying the exact words – avoiding the subject, just like Claude did – the exact nature of his feelings towards him, and hoping for a kind of answer Claude would be so happy to give him, if it weren’t for the crash, the landing, the collateral damages he foresees and which they can’t possibly avoid.

Dimitri is standing next to him, his toes in the void, and he’s begging him to jump.

“I…I’m not playing with you. I never was. This is not a game for me. What we have.” Claude advances into the light the moon gives them through the Cathedral’s windows, Dimitri has never looked so scared, so fragile, so impossibly beautiful, “It is precious, yet it is a bit different from the kind of friendship I share with Hilda.” He tries to avoid addressing the pressing matter with another evasive reply, but Dimitri isn’t having any.

He swoops on him; his hands cup his cheeks. Claude has never blushed so much in his life and so quickly. “Do you really think I’m this stupid? Or blind?” Claude swallows hard, Dimitri tilts his head a bit higher and forces their eyes to meet, his thumbs press hard on his cheekbones. “Friendship, really? Is this what we are? Friends only?”

To such a burst of honesty, for it is clear what intentions Dimitri holds in his heart now, Claude finds no clever scheme and no escape route, and he isn’t quite sure he would want one if it presented itself on the spot. He is defenceless, and worse, he’s defeated, entirely.

“…No.” He confesses in a murmur.

The pressure on his cheekbones lessens. Dimitri has stopped breathing, it’s like time has stopped until he is sure he has heard correctly. And so, Claude repeats, “We’re not, not anymore,” to free him from his trance, to free _them_ from days, weeks and moons of tension, fear of rejection, of hesitation.

His hands rise to Dimitri’s face with adoration, one gets stuck in his hair, the other on his jaw. “Your eyes, they’re of the same blue of the sky at Blue Sea Moon, where I come from.” The moon he was born into this world. “I’ve loved them the moment I saw you.”

“Do you have any idea of how much I regret not kissing you that day?” Dimitri breathes, his thumb caresses his cheekbone. Claude is hot, so hot, his head is truly spinning now, he can’t barely feel his legs. “I think about this moment all the time. About when you leaned in the first time mistaking my move, and when you withdrew too and let me think I was the one reading you wrong. If only I had known your heart wasn’t taken at this moment, if only I hadn’t been so shy…if only you would know I much I regret.”

“But my heart was taken, Dimitri, by none but yourself, and for so long.”

Dimitri runs his lips on Claude’s cheek, starting from his ear, dropping soft kisses along the way as his hand catches the back of his neck. Claude whines. He can’t think, he doesn’t want to, ever again. “There’s something I’ve always dreamed of doing,” Claude smiles at how deliciously familiar that phrasing sounds. “Would you let me Claude?”

A chuckle escapes his lips, “Are you going to play with my braid again?”

“No,” Dimitri kisses his cheek with full lips, “Later, if you permit it.”

“Anything you want, Dimitri. Please,” he begs, closing his eyes. “Before I change my mind.”

Claude parts his mouth in good faith and waits for what seems to be an eternity for Dimitri’s lips to sentence him, and when they do they are shy, so shy, he barely feels them against his skin. They linger there and run on Claude’s, waiting for a move of approval, of reciprocity which Claude gladly gives, as he brings his arms behind Dimitri’s head and meets him with an open mouth, kissing him with more force and despair than his sweet Prince has done seconds ago. He lets out a sigh as he’s meeting an enthusiastic respond, as Dimitri circles his waist and gently pushes him against a pillar, their lips never parting. Claude gasps when his back hits the stone, an opportunity he would have liked Dimitri to take to be bold and adventure his tongue into his mouth; but he remembers Dimitri is a son of the _Holy_ Kingdom of Faerghus after all, and has obviously never kissed anyone before Claude, and despite his fantasy and all the potential pleasure Dimitri can give him, he has to remember firsts aren’t perfect, far from it. He runs his tongue on Dimitri’s lower lip, asking, begging, taunting, and Dimitri is quick to follow his mind. He timidly parts his lips, allowing Claude to break through his defences and invade his mouth, finding another tongue to taste and play with. Dimitri moans. Claude is in love. His hands go on his hair, grasp it; he wants Dimitri on his bed, shirtless, or perhaps even less clothed, he wants to be naked against him and to feel his hands on him. He wants him to play with his braid affectuously like that night, the one they truly kissed for the first time, and wants Dimitri to repeat these words of adoration.

_‘There’s something I’ve always dreamed of doing.’_

Claude breaks the kiss. Only Dimitri stands breathless against him. Claude rests his head on his shoulder; he was right to believe he’d love the fall, more than anything else, but the ground is growing closer too soon for his liking. Dimitri remembers, they both do, that night, they both fooled the other for reason that now seems childish and unimportant, but the fact remains, and Claude is scared.

“Are you changing your mind already?”

Oddly, there’s no anger or spite in Dimitri’s voice, as if he half expected it.

“How can you tell?” Claude asks, his voice is weak.

“Your eyebrows are furred when you think too much. And you shouldn’t be thinking right now if I was doing my duty correctly.”

“You’ve done nothing but superb.” Claude mutters, his mouth hushed by Dimitri’s cape. “My heart is yours, but you too must see how this has not a single chance to work with our political position.”

“Is that why you were so hesitant? Why I could never guess what run through your mind?” Dimitri questions, which shows again how much attention he paid to Claude, more than Claude had imagined. “How ironic that the reason you started our friendship is the same that forbids you to love me.”

The words hurt. Claude takes Dimitri’s hand and kisses its palm through his black glove. Images of Hilda covered in blood, Lorenz, his uncle, dead, they all rush to his mind. Dimitri running away from his ghosts, Edelgard marching against the Church, the fragile stability of their borders; the world they live in is beautiful and yet so fragile, could it absorb the news of their infatuation without breaking from all sides? “You must know Count Gloucester had my uncle killed. I wouldn’t even be there without him, so I’d rather be thankful since I would never have met you, but I do like my head on my shoulders. If he ever finds out I’m this close to you, the future King of Faerghus, what would he think of me, and of my ability to lead a territory that was once yours?”

“If Count Gloucester is the only problem I can think of a couple of ways to deal with it.” Dimitri says. There it is, the spark, the obsession he saw in Edelgard as she spoke about the Church, the man he saw in his dream, looking just like Dimitri with long blond hair and a furry coat full of blood.

“Not only. It’s the same reason that forces you to hide the fact that you and Edelgard are siblings. How do you think the Kingdom’s nobility will take it?” Dimitri takes a step back, cornered by his own secret. “You’ll lose supporters, or worse, some advisers would see your ascension to the throne as an intrusion from the Empire. It is no secret the Empire wants Fódlan to be united behind its banner once more after all.”

“But where does that leave us?”

“Dimitri, Kingdom’s and Alliance’s nobility will never approve of us. And if they do, without going through a civil war, and if we both made it through and none of our dear ones are killed in the process, what would the Empire think of it? We’re a threat for them!”

Dimitri’s arms fall on his side. “You really thought this through and through.”

His voice is funny, Claude hates it, because he knows what it hides. Disappointment, surrender. His argument worked, logic triumphs of feelings, and if it is purely and simply just the truth Claude unveils in front of Dimitri, he can’t help but feel he is the one breaking their dawning dream.

“How long have you…known?” Dimitri asks. His eyes are on the floor, they can’t look at him now, he truly is shy, Claude realizes.

“I’ve liked you for quite a while,” Claude admits. It doesn’t feel right to hide anything from him now. They’ve cleared the air now, for better or for worse. “You were, no, you are everything I wished to be when I first landed in Fódlan. I’ve liked you for so long, but it took me quite a while to realize…to say I find myself clever.” He murmurs the last part with spite. This is the last trap he wanted to fall into.

In front of him Dimitri blinks rapidly as to dry his eyes, and Claude might fear he’s biting down some tears; he looks at the altar where a statue of the Goddess quietly lays, thinking perhaps all of this is unfair. Claude can’t help it, he surges on him, his hands on his face again and it’s with horror that he realizes his intuition has hit the truth, for Dimitri’s eyes are red and shining, and if there’s no tear running on his cheek yet it’s only thanks to his tremendous effort to prevent them from falling. “Goddess please, Dimitri, don’t cry.”

“How could I not?!” cries Dimitri, and he shoves him away in a single swing of the arm. “I’ve been distraught for days, weeks even, walking in fear of your rejection if I were to find the courage to finally address my affection to you, which I never could all thanks to my cowardice. And now, I can’t decide what is more painful; all these days I thought your thoughts belong to another soul, or these last moment when I finally saw my feelings being returned, only to be rejected after a single kiss, and for a reason I give no cure about.”

“No cure? Dimitri you can’t be serious!” Claude can’t believe he’s so blind to the chaos they’ll leave behind. “You’ve seen the state the Kingdom is in, from your very own eyes! They need their King, and they need you strong! I’ll only weaken your position if I stand by your side. How do you suppose the reconstruction of Duscur to go smoothly if you don’t have every ally you can have on your side?”

“I can’t have them all.” Dimitri turns to him, his stare accusing, “Since you won’t let me have you.”

Claude finds himself short of reply, the tone and pain Dimitri goes through are too obvious to ignore, and he never thought, never imagined it would hurt so much to see the man he loves at the verge of tears, as if someone was tearing his own heart away cruelly slowly – and this person, his executioner, ironically, is none but himself.

“You won’t weaken me. You don’t. If anything, you’re making me stronger, braver; with you I can face my demons without losing my mind.” Dimitri exposes, with determination. “It’s only in other’s people eyes that you’ll be a weakness. You know the truth is any other.”

“I know. Dimitri I know all that, but unfortunately, I am not enough to replace all the supports I’ll make you lose, and you can’t protect me from all my enemies in the Alliance’s rank that already wants me gone, and will have yet another reason to ask for my departure.”

“But do they need to know? Claude, we don’t have to expose us to the world.” Dimitri reaches his side and takes his hands into his, brings them to his lips where he leaves soft kisses. “Even if it’s miles away from what my heart seeks and cries for, I’d rather have hidden interviews, stolen glances, and the privilege to kiss you behind closed doors, than nothing at all. I will endure the days I must share you with others a thousand times, when I’ll never be allowed to touch you as my heart would dictate and only look at you in agony from afar, for just a minute in your arms, a night by your side. But being deprived from you utterly, being denied the right to love you will hurt me more than a thousand lances breaching my back. I can’t live in a world where you love me yet refuse my devotion.”

Claude seriously doubts any of it is actually real, nor the words Dimitri spoke, or the warmth of his kisses, even the fact that he loves him and so entirely feels like a scene straight out of his wildest dream, and perhaps it would be safer to bet Claude has had more champagne than he previously thought and passed out at some point, and someone brought him back to his room to sleep where he’s having this most magnificent dream.

“Those words are too pretty for someone like me.” He says, his whole face burns with blissfulness; there is nothing that will ever match the pleasure of being love so intensely, “You should keep them for someone who deserve them.”

“Do you really think so little of yourself?”

Claude buries his face in the crook of Dimitri’s neck. “What about you? Throwing away so carelessly your life for a stupid boy who can’t even think of a scheme to make this impossible dream possible? Of course they don’t have to know, but they will.” He raises his head, his own eyes itch, his vision is blurrier. “Hilda has always known my feelings for you before I was even aware of them, just by looking at my face, and you know as well as I do how three people can only keep a secret if two of them are dead.”

“But Hilda is your best friend, right?” Of course she is, but a slip of the tongue is so easy to make, and Holst and Lorenz so keen on listening to her. “I understand that you don’t entrust her with…heavier secrets of yours, but this one should be safe, don’t you think? Claude? Claude, talk to me.”

Claude has indeed rigidified in his embrace, his eyes have widened, shocked by a truth he would have liked to ignore.

“Heavier secrets? My my!” And the old Claude, faking his smile to get away from any dangerous situation, his honeyed voice is back at full tilt. “What could you possibly hint by that Your Highness?”

Dimitri sees the change as bright as day, pain paints on his face as he takes Claude’s braid between his fingers. “Claude, I can’t begin to imagine how difficult and gruelling this has been for you, all this time, but you don’t need to hide anymore. You can trust me, utterly, and forever. I’ll never betray your secret. I’ll never tell anyone who you are.”

“Who I am?” Claude repeats. His voice trembles. His whole body does.

“Isn’t it…” He looks for the words, his thumb runs on his braid, “Isn’t this braid of the right side of your head a symbol of Royalty?”

And Claude freezes, his heart stops, for Dimitri only speaks the truth, and Dimitri _knows who he is._

He knows, and there’s nothing worse that could have happened tonight, than for Dimitri to have guessed who, or rather, what Claude really is, thanks to another caprice of him. Of course he didn’t have to keep it, and he should have been cleverer and cut it the second he stepped into Fódlan, but it was, like his dagger, the only remaining sign of who he was and where he came from and Claude had, pretentiously, thought no one will ever notice.

“…Claude?”

He can’t stay here.

Does he also know it’s not even his real name?

He takes a step back, then another. Dimitri lets him. “Please Claude. You can trust me. You need to. I’ll protect you.” He says hastily.

But no one can, not from this, not when he’s alone in the enemy’s territory, alone in the lion’s den. “Sorry.” He murmurs, he can’t breathe, he can’t feel his legs as they run away. But where can he run to? He has no escape route now. His whole cover has been unveiled.

“Claude!” Dimitri shouts at his lungs, his feet somehow glued to the ground, he doesn’t chase after him and watches Claude disappear from his embrace, from the Cathedral, from his grip, “Please, don’t go! I love you!”

But Claude can only hear the laughs from his step siblings and the sounds of two knifes being sliced together, waiting for their time to shine and claim his head. He runs to the only place he can find solace in, his room where his dagger awaits him, he passes by his classmates, who barely notice the terrible state he is in and for which Claude is thankful, too busy to complain in idle chatters when it could very well be the last peaceful night he spends in Fódlan, and the very last time he sees their faces. Claude storms into his room and takes a piece of paper, his hand shakes and misses his ink pot a couple of time. He halts then, he doesn’t even know what to write, and to whom. His thoughts automatically goes for Judith but, not this time, he needs to warn home, he needs Nardel to know his secret has been discovered, and that he needs extraction, urgently.

Someone knocks on his door. Hopefully it is too quiet to be coming from the last person he wishes to see. “Claude?” the tiny voice belongs to Lysithea, what on earth is she still doing up this late? “Is everything alright? I saw you running like a mad man.”

He takes a few breathes, calming his nerves. She doesn’t know. She’s safe. “Yeah, don’t worry.” He opens the door still, enough only to reveal his face and a smile he fakes. “Let’s say I needed to escape from the consequences of my mischiefs.”

This seems to be coherent enough for someone has scholar as their mage prodigy. “I guess it was bound to happen. I’m actually surprised it doesn’t occur more often. You should be more careful Claude, your natural gift at improvisation and spontaneous problem solving won’t save you always.”

She excuses herself to bed, which Claude is thankful for as her words linger; how ironic she spoke so truly of a situation she knows nothing of. From the very beginning Claude has underestimated his opponent, by not thinking Dimitri could turn himself to be one, and of so many talents, and he had thought he had been the one laying the traps where the Prince would inevitably fall due to his mysterious charisma; and if Dimitri undeniably lost this game as well, for they were never supposed to fall in love at the worst possible time, in the worst possible place, what Claude had to sacrifice to obtain something that in the end won’t serve the purpose of his lifetime dream was the only thing he was forbidden to lose. His true identity, the impossible secret he has somehow maintain. Claude has always known playing with Foldan’s ignorance of his culture was playing with fire itself, he thought himself above all this, above suspicion, his game was too perfect. He’s learned the language and got rid of his accent, learned the manners, erased almost everything that could possibly linked him to his homeland and it took Dimitri one thing, one little detail to destroy it all.

What will happen if they know? His friends, would they betray him? All this people he is fighting for, for who he sacrifices his heart for, would they still call him a friend if Claude were to reveal his real name?

Things always look better in the morning, his mother used to say; if Claude is sure this won’t work this time, he’ll gladly admit he’s too tired and has had too much champagne to take a rational decision that could change his life, and Foldan’s future, forever. After all, even if Dimitri were to betray his secret there is no one who would immediately believe him and chase after him, and if he denies this most insane claim, it would be his words against Claude’s. His grandfather might be asked for some precision and until then, Claude would have had time to think for an escape route, even contact some of his close relative in Almyra where he could return, safe, but for how long?

Claude sits on his bed. The dagger in his lap, he ignores the drops that fall on its blade. He stands strong in the storm. He stays alive. He stays alone.

He raises the dagger to his hair under the braid. If only he hadn’t cling on something so stupid. If only he had gotten rid of it the moment he landed here.

_“Are you going to play with my braid again?”_

_“No. Later, if you permit it.”_

Claude closes his eyes, they sting, they burn, his sight his blurry. He can’t find the strength to slice it.

_“Come on Claude, has some faith in yourself. You’re at least as attractive as he is with your exotic features and green eyes. I’m pretty sure he’s so distracted by the way you stare at him and how you always manage to make your braid swing when you talk to him that he only listens to half the words you say!”_

Dimitri has always liked it after all. His eyes stared at it, treasured it, the moment they became friends and long before they developed into something else.

His arms fall into his lap.

_“How often must I tell you to refer to me by my name? More than anymore here, you’re nothing but an equal to me.”_

How long has he known? Or has doubt on Claude’s heritage? How long has he stayed quiet, kept Claude’s secret and never engage the conversation in fear of making him uncomfortable but occasionally throwing a line, in case Claude would want to confess and unweight this horrendous secret off of his shoulders?

Dimitri has always been so easy to trust, and yet so far he has never disappointed. There’s nothing that Claude wants more than to be able to rely on him, for everything, to stop pretending even for a second in front of another man, the most important one, and it’s with that smoothing, dreamy thoughts of an unrealistic future where they can both address the other with their true titles and real names, as perfect equals, future Kings of their respective territories, that Claude eventually finds sleep, his dagger in hand and his braid untouched.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought you couldn't be more mad at me after I put careless whisper in your head hn?
> 
> Before I leave you for some time I'd like to thank [Zack](https://twitter.com/hyaenaz) who so kindly [drew a fanart from last chapter](https://twitter.com/hyaenaz/status/1279134200147464194?s=20) !  
> It was so unexpected I fainted. Thank you. So. Much.
> 
> Guess they'll need a bit more time to get their sh/t together though.


	14. Etherian Moon : After The Ball

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are a few things Claude can conceal, ignore, he has done so for moons after all, hasn’t he? Hasn’t he done the exact same thing with his feelings for Dimitri? He didn’t address them as soon as they appeared, pretended they were inexistent or ones of friendship and admiration only, until they were so strong the fences he put around them crumbled. So why can’t he do the same with this ideation of ruins, of tragedy, of losing Dimitri by a simple blade stabbing his unguarded back? How could his powerful hands, his strong back, his inhuman strength be threatened by something so small as the dagger he holds?
> 
> The thought overwhelms him. He sits on his bed with his dagger in hands, and he does for hours, unable to think of anything else but the eventuality of Dimitri’s death, his own never crossing his mind, for lovers never fear their own demise.
> 
> That’s how he finds himself in front of Dimitri’s room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So if you remember I said I would write one chapter per moon. Etherian Moon chapter is officially more than 40k.

* * *

#### Etherian Moon

.

#### After the Ball

* * *

Claude has spent the night sleeping on his stomach, his arm under his pillow where it is still holding his dagger in a tight grip. The Church has been kind enough to cancel morning classes that were normally scheduled to let the student rest after this unforgettable night and possible hangover, so the whole Monastery feels asleep. He’s still alive. No one came to harm him in the middle of the night, not even a worm, or a shadow. But it is far too early to worry, and Claude has yet to decide what strategy to pull when he’ll have to face Dimitri again. All in all, it is not a matter of love, not anymore, but rather one of trust, and it has always been Claude’s weak point. After he calmed down from yesterday’s agitation two possibilities arise: either Dimitri betrays his trust and he has to leave Fódlan, far and simple, or he unexpectedly doesn’t, he stands true to his words and keeps Claude’s identity to himself, which would give Claude another choice to make regarding their relationship status.

Claude finds it easier to deal with people he mistrusts in the long run. Trusting someone puts him in a vulnerable state where he has nothing to do but wait for a betrayal, one he’ll never see coming, and which would destroy him forever.

One of the wiser choices would be to buy Dimitri’s silence, with a secret or two he’ll find; after all he’s already gotten one that is quite enormous. But deep inside Claude knows it’s not right, and not what he wants, to cause harm to the man he loves and loves him back – who could have thought, _who would have thought_ – and there’s a part of him that isn’t that small that hopes, that maybe, possibly, Dimitri feels the same. He’ll cling on that feeling for now. Dimitri loves him, and if he isn’t too hurt and angry after Claude’s rejection, he won’t let frustration overpowers his good senses and betrays Claude’s most important secret. But there is no proof or insurance concerning betrayal, on the opposite, and nothing is ever acquired forever, be it love or trust, and it’s a knowledge Claude knows too well.

He doesn’t want to face it, but his guts have none but one solution to his problem: they demand his departure. When, and how, are the questions he needs to find answers to, and his letter to Nader might enlighten him on his possible options. Yet the timing, more than anything, will depend on Dimitri and his cooperation.

It’s well into the morning and Claude knows it when he hears someone at his door. “Claude?” Unmistakable, Hilda’s voice is the only one he wants to hear today. “Claude, are you awake? Can I come in?”

“Yeah.” He says loud enough for her to hear and sits on his bed. She wears her ordinary clothes but still has some make up on her eyes. “Did you have fun?”

“Oh yes, Dorothea is simply lovely, I’m so sad we aren’t in the same house.” She sits on his bed. “And if you’d ask me, I think she hates Ferdinand too much not to love him, at least a little.”

Claude laughs, how lucky he is to have her, “We both agree on that.”

“What about you then?” She grasps his legs under the sheets. “Lysithea told me she saw you running back to your quarters yesterday, did anything happen that I should know?”

“Nothing of importance.” He lies, and skilfully, and he can’t understand why Hilda doesn’t seem to believe him. “I went for Sylvain but he was already talking with Teach.”

“I know that.” Oh, does she? How? “He told me we’ve won the bet.”

“You-what?! You bet with Sylvain?!” Talks about trust and betrayal!

“Claude, if you don’t even want to tell me you danced with Dimitri, I can only guess it ended up badly, am I right?” She sighs before getting a reply, as if she already knew.

“How long did Sylvain stay?” How much has he seen and heard?

“Not long I’m afraid, he was just too happy to spread the news to all those who participated, and since the Professor saw you as well, he had a solid testimony.”

“Does it mean that everybody knows?” Dammit, Sylvain!

“That you two danced? Yes, well, not everyone but all our classmates know for certain. But don’t worry,” Hilda takes a purse and gives him a thousand gold. “I told everyone you participated in the bet, so that it’ll look like you just did it for money, if you want it to of course. For most people that don’t really know you, it looks slightly like something you would do.”

He knows it sounds ugly, but this is truly a relief. “Thank you, Hilda, for always having my back.”

“Don’t you feel like I deserve an explanation then?”

“Are you manipulating me Hilda Valentine Goneril? I can’t believe it; I thought this treatment was reserved to everyone else but me!” He whines.

“Oh, please; you know how invested I am with you two, I have a right to know!” There’s a lot of truth in her complain, and Claude would probably be miles away from his true feelings if it hadn’t been for her and her guidance. “Besides, Sylvain’s practically sure he’s heads over heels with you.” She adds, “He says each time he tries to mention you two, Dimitri blushes or looks elsewhere.”

“Tell me my friend, are you and Sylvain dating?”

To his inquire she laughs. “That’s a good one! Of course not. I told him the first time he flirted with me that my brother would probably kill him if he heard half of the things he told me.”

Fair point.

“Back to our business, you ain’t escaping me Claude Von Riegan. Tell your friend Hilda everything.”

And it’s not like he wants to hide anything from her, far the opposite, but Hilda is so kind, and naïve at times, and she will never realize how heavy his burden is, and it would be so simple for her to tell his secret or worse, what would happen if Holst were to fall by the hand of an Almyrian? There is no guarantee she wouldn’t resent him. He can’t tell her everything.

“It was exactly as you said. You predicted it all.” Hilda straightens her back, alerted, “He thought I was going with you, and wanted to ask me all along.”

“I knew it! One point for Hilda! Hilda Hilda! Wait,” she suddenly stops, “Then, he likes you! And he told you!”

Claude sighs, “Yes.”

“And you told him you liked him in return?”

“I did.”

“But,” her shoulders shrink. “Oh Claude, stupid Claude, don’t tell me you listened to your stupid list.”

“It’s not like I have much of a choice.” He tries to get out of bed but she prevents him from it. “Hilda, I told you already. I can’t let anything happen between us, nothing good will get out of this. No one must know we like each other.”

“You know what I think? That you’re a coward.” His body tenses. What has gotten her?! “You’re hiding behind all those pretty excuses on your list because you’re scared of your own feelings! You’re obviously not behaving the same when he’s around and it frightens you, because you never thought someone could dictate your actions so easily and so fully and you’re not sure you like the idea!”

Claude takes her arm and pushes her out of his bed, he gets up, “What I know is that Lorenz’s father got my uncle assassinated to weaken house Riegan and he won’t miss an opportunity to have me out of the picture as well.” She gasps, he immediately feels awful for breaking such heavy news on her. “Please Hilda, believe me when I say there is no other choice.”

“Isn’t it when Raphael’s parents got killed? In that accident?” Her voice cracks, she sits back on his bed, her face hidden in her hands. “Oh, I had no idea.”

Ashamed by his outburst, Claude takes place next to her and massages her back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put this on you.”

She speaks after a while. “Do you think Lorenz knows about this?”

“Lorenz? He’ll probably say it’s not very noble, to kill your political opposition.” They both laugh quietly.

“To think I enjoyed dancing with him yesterday.”

“Lorenz is still Lorenz, regardless of what his father did.” Claude reassures her. “You did nothing wrong, he didn’t either.”

“You know, sometimes I regret that I was spoiled so much by my father and older brother.” Hilda confesses. She leans on him, her head on his shoulder. “They have always protected me from the outside world. Each time Holst and my father came back from the Throat, they were already mended and fine, with only bright smiles to offer, and they smelt of soap and fresh clothes. I never had to bother about political affairs. I never thought your idyll with Dimitri will make me start.”

“Sorry to make you work.” He jokes, to ease the tension. Hilda sighs, they sit side by side for a moment before going back to their antic – Hilda has tons of gossip to tell Claude, and Claude has a few books and some of Bernadetta’s story to lend her.

“You know, I always wondered why Sylvain reads her story first.” Hilda says.

“Well, she told me he was her greatest fan.”

“Yes, but, why?”

Considering the content and protagonists of her stories it is, indeed, quite curious and amusing.

“You have to admit she has quite the pleasant style.”

They leave the discussion at that. Later they go for lunch, hoping not to meet Dimitri on the way – they, in fact, meet no Blue Lions at all. The Dining hall is rather silent, for all the Knights have gone as well. Claude smells something fishy is going on.

“Hey,” Leonie finds them out of the sauna later in the afternoon. “Have you seen Captain Jeralt? I can’t find him anywhere.”

“Isn’t he on his own mission?” Claude isn’t really supposed to know this much, but, well, he’s got ears in each wall the Monastery has to offer.

“Yes, but he returned, I saw him talking with the professor a couple of hours ago.”

“Actually we haven’t seen the Professor today, or any of the Blue Lions, have we Claude?” She eyes him suspiciously, and yes, he hasn’t seen Dimitri yet, since it’s what she wants to know.

“Could they all be in the same place? A special training or worse?” Is there a danger they aren’t aware of lurking in the corner of the Monastery? They all have been so focused on the ball this moon that Claude forgot to ask what Dimitri’s mission is about.

His plead is answered by none but Lorenz, who runs to him along with Ferdinand and Caspar. “You’ve heard the news?”

He informs them of the mysterious disappearance of students near an abandoned chapel where the Blue Lion class, along with Jeralt, rushed into.

“I’ve heard Alois say there were Beasts.” Ferdinand adds, to their horror. Never has Claude fought with one, but what Sylvain and Dimitri told about them is enough for him not to want this eventuality to occur any time soon. “I suggest we give them assistance as quickly as we can.”

“Yes! We need to help Jeralt!” Leonie rushes to the stables with Ferdinand and Lorenz; Hilda very slowly turns her head to Claude.

“You don’t have to.”

“Ah, thank goodness.” She sighs but seems happy. “It’s not that I don’t want to help.”

“We’ll manage well without you. Come on Caspar, we don’t want to get behind!”

They get their weapons from the training ground and meet in the entrance. Unfortunately none of them knows where the abandoned chapel is supposed to be, and Claude regrets he hasn’t taken Jasmine out – he thought they didn’t have the time, but that was foolish, they lost a big advantage due to his miscalculation. They split into two groups, Golden Deers and Black Eagles, Claude mounts with Lorenz as they cover as much field as their horses can.

“Why is there so many churches and chapels here?” Claude complains, they’ve been turning in round for half an hour, and he doesn’t want to recognize it but he’s suddenly not hungry at all, and he’s positively worried something bad has happened. His hands shake as they hold his axe. Lorenz holds the reins too tight.

“We’re just outside Garreg Mach. Of course there would be chapels all around. People who live here are mostly pious.”

Claude can’t understand such devotion.

They don’t have to wait long before someone eventually finds what they were all looking for, but Leonie’s cry is at the exact opposite of how they would have liked to meet with their friends again.

“No! It can’t be!”

And Claude has never heard her cry so loudly, so desperately, so miserably that he fears he knows what kind of visions causes her sorrow, and fears all the more another could very well plunged him in the same harrowing state. “Lorenz! Quick!” He orders. He wants to take the reins himself and run as fast as his heart is beating, he wants to retch, what if something terrible happened, what if something terrible happened _to him-_

He ran away. Dimitri shouted his love for him under the Goddess’s roof and he ran away, and he never replied, he never told him, he _never told him._

They stop next to Leonie’s horse. In front of them lies Jeralt, immobile, with Teach holding him in their arms, their face in tears. The Blue Lions are a couple of steps behind, standing still as well and it looks like they are looking at a picture, if it weren’t from Leonie’s cries and tears. She has crumbled on her legs far from them, unable to take the steps that could have led her to her mentor, for the sight was too much for her to bear. In truth there have been few subjects Leonie gladly talked about that weren’t Jeralt, Jeralt this, Jeralt that, it is not surprising his demise pains her so much. But for some reason, before Claude realized someone has indeed been killed in this terrible missions they knew nothing about, his eyes have found a tall blond hair in the crowd, and Dimitri stands, he breathes, he curls his fists and suffers in front of yet another unfair death, probably already hating himself for having been there and failing to prevent it.

Dimitri lives, Claude breathes. The rest, as horrible as it is, matters not, or perhaps not as much as it should.

Soon they are joined by the Knights, and Seteth and Rhea, and there are so many people crying and shouting, “Lorenz, let’s go back.” This is not their place; Claude isn’t sure he’ll be able to meet Dimitri in the eyes. They need to leave.

They find the rest of the Golden Deers at the gate when they come back. “What happened?” Ignaz talks first, Marianne looks at the ground, Hilda is holding Lysithea’s shoulders and Raphael paces back and forth behind them.

Leonie remained behind. Claude isn’t sure someone will make her leave the place, if not Seteth, or Teach perhaps. “Jeralt’s dead.” He tells them, and they all gasp. And then, no word is spoken between them.

When night comes Claude walks back to his room; Hilda, Ignaz and Raphael sit altogether on the last step of the stair, just next to Hilda’s room. Her eyes are all red. The boys stand up when he approaches.

“Hey,” he kneels in front of her. Hilda looks up briefly and smiles for a second, the sadness is back the moment after, “Hilda Valentine, why the tears?”

She grabs on Ignaz’s sleeve when he walks away. She needs the support, to be surrounded by her friends. “I’ve never…have anyone I know die in front of me before.”

Claude figures out that more than Jeralt’s death, it’s her fear of loss triggered by this new tragedy touching someone so close to them, physically speaking, or dear to someone they all know and adore that cause the tears to fall, and the impossibility of this worst case scenario to occur. Jeralt was supposed to be the strongest of them all, the untouchable, and now he’s gone.

“Funny, isn’t it? Life is so fragile. One moment you’re here, and the next, who knows, someone you know might be dead.”

Ignaz sits back, his hand rubbing her back.

“Since I was very little, I always thought fighting, and battles were nothing. I never understood why my mother never seemed to rest before my father, then my brother, came back from the Throat. They always came back alive, after all, they have to, we’re the good guys after all.” She sniffs, silent drops of tear fall on her cheek. “I hate fighting. I hate going on the battlefield. From the very first battle, I understood wounds hurt. The cuts Holst is always so proud of are made by iron or silver from those bloody Almyrians, it’s his own flesh that got hurt, his own blood that got spent and he could have died, all those times, when I was there complaining to be bored in my luxurious house, bathing in utter frivolity, surrounded by servants and lacking of absolutely nothing. He could have died and I didn’t even think about it, never understood each goodbye could have been the last.” Claude takes her hands, she drops her head on Raphael’s strong shoulder. “It could have been the last so many times, it only takes a second to suffer from a deadly wound, it only takes a second for someone to be gone and it lasts forever.”

They return to their own room, their mind weighted with heavy thoughts but that require to be dealt alone. Claude, without dismissing the undergoing hate for his people he would have liked not to find in Hilda’s voice – yet, it didn’t surprise him much, after all isn’t he doing all this for this purpose, for people like Hilda, for good people to take off their blinders and see the world anew? – is shaken by the cruelty of life and conflict, as he realizes they have less time of peace ahead of them than he had previously thought, and that their enemies are indeed the real deal. This is not a game anymore, each missions led by the Monastery could end up with death at the end of the road and they are too young, too carefree to have imagined things would go this far so quickly, and that no one, despite their strength and worth, would be spared.

Claude sits on his bed, his body restless, unable to lie down. His dagger in hands, he can’t even begin to imagine what would have happened if Dimitri hadn’t stopped him from slicing his throat at Gronder Field. Even the second before, and the ones after, the eventuality of Dimitri’s death has been nothing but a foggy fear, too far and unthinkable to be truly distinguished in the mist of the battle, and since it has not occurred at all Claude had stored it away in a part of his mind where he usually puts unimportant things and knowledge, unnecessary trivia, every ones of Lorenz’s childhood memories he doesn’t care about but had to listen to.

There are a few things Claude can conceal, ignore, he has done so for moons after all, hasn’t he? Hasn’t he done the exact same thing with his feelings for Dimitri? He didn’t address them as soon as they appeared, pretended they were inexistent or ones of friendship and admiration only, until they were so strong the fences he put around them crumbled. So why can’t he do the same with this ideation of ruins, of tragedy, of losing Dimitri by a simple blade stabbing his unguarded back? How could his powerful hands, his strong back, his unhuman strength be threatened by something so small as the dagger he holds?

The thought overwhelms him. He sits on his bed with his dagger in hands, and he does for hours, unable to think of anything else but the eventuality of Dimitri’s death, his own never crossing his mind, for lovers never fear their own demise.

That’s how he finds himself in front of Dimitri’s room.

The lights are out inside, he must be sleeping – it’s way past midnight – and so Claude knocks, and when no one replies he thinks again of all the missed opportunities, the miscommunication that brought them here, that pushed them away from each other. He turns his head to Sylvain’s room, where he can see light under the door. He waits, he thinks he hears voices, and steps, and boots hitting on the floor. The door opens. He gasps. He’s in here.

“This conversation isn’t over!” Dimitri mutters not to wake up the whole corridor. “Whatever you say, the thing you did back there was reckless, and I won’t accept this kind of destructive behaviour from you Sylvain, be it to protect me or our friends. Your life doesn’t matter less than mine, or any other, is that clear?”

“Your Highness, I’ll ask you again to forgive me for my boldness, but you’re kind of cute.” Sylvain replies just as low. “Putting your life and mine on the same line? Come on, you’re my future King, whatever I think of myself we will never be equal, and as one of your future Knights it’s my duty to die in your place. So go on, lure yourself into this little illusion where you bestow yourself a lower rank that the one you owe. You can pretend we’re all pals, but it won’t last, you know? Soon you’ll take the throne, and whether you like it or not we’ll all kneel in front of you and you won’t be our classmate anymore, and some might even see you never were to begin with.”

“Enough!” His fists tighten, Dimitri takes a step back into Sylvain’s room, perhaps he considers taking him by the collar to shake him back to his sense, who knows. “I won’t tolerate such nonsense.”

“See? Here lies your beautiful contradiction. You’re ordering me not to shut up and ask me to consider you as a comrade at the same time. You’ll have to determine what you really want, at some point. But perhaps this can wait, it seems you have company, and one you’ll probably find more pleasant than mine.”

Claude holds his breath.

“Don’t be silly. At this hour? What are you talking…”

And Dimitri mimics him when he sees who’s waiting, indeed, in front of his room. Claude hasn’t moved from his spot, and Dimitri’s stare and bright blue eyes paralyse him still. In his head the echo of the last words he has spoken, shouted in the middle of the empty Cathedral resonates, and with all that has happened in the real world and in Claude’s head, it’s so easy to forget it has only been a day ago. Dimitri’s feelings are still blazing from last night’s combustion, since Claude dramatically ran away from the heat, from everything, from his responsibilities, hid in his own world of betrayal and deception only to find himself standing in front of the man he previously rejected and hurt impossibly, guided by an invisible force, the fright that every day could be their last, every hello, every smile, and Claude can’t go back to Almyra knowing how warm Dimitri’s embrace feels without testing it one last time, and treasuring those memories as they should.

“I…” The words are lost between his heart and throat, but he feels Dimitri hear them regardless. After all, Dimitri told him he loved him, and Claude returned. He returned, and it’s the closest he’ll ever do to say it back. “I was…” Dimitri walks calmly to him, ignoring Sylvain’s wink and how his friend went back to his room; he doesn’t pronounce a single word even when they stand so close and Claude’s back hits the door.

He opens his mouth again, nothing comes out. And in the end, it’s not even necessary. His eyes speak for himself. Dimitri reads them, and he knows. He grabs the door handle and gently pushes the door open, and brings Claude with him when their chest meet.

“It’s just,” Claude’s cheeks are already burning, but he feels the need to say this, at least, Dimitri has a right to know. “It’s just for tonight.” Tomorrow he’ll send his letter to Nader and depending on his answer, he’ll go back to his home place, back to Almyra and he’ll never see Dimitri ever again. “Please.”

He has anticipated all kind of reactions coming from Dimitri: shouts of rage, bursts of tears – why not after all? – or indifference, but never he had thought his horrible words would be sentenced with a hungry kiss and a strong hand behind his head, holding his skull. “Okay,” Dimitri says against his lips, and he kisses him again, “I’ll take everything you have to offer.” Claude feels his knees go weak, his legs shake and Dimitri notices, he holds him closer, tighter, against his armour Claude’s skin aches but it doesn’t matter; he has Dimitri and Dimitri has him, for tonight, just for one night, but this is all Fate accepts to give them in the middle of these trouble times, for two young men whose steps and choices will guide the future of Fódlan and beyond.

Liberated somehow by Dimitri’s acceptance Claude unleashes his own blaze, which he had too often and for too long kept to himself, the passion and love melting his thoughts into jelly; his arms link behind Dimitri’s head and use his shoulders as leverage, he jumps and his legs circle Dimitri’s hips. He kisses his jaw, his cheeks, his lips, as if they were the only ones in the world. They are to him.

“Claude, let- “ But he’s silenced with a kiss. Claude doesn’t feel like talking. “Let me get into something more comfortable.”

Claude eyes his boots, sure they would get in the way at some point. “Fine.” He drops a last kiss on Dimitri mouth, quickly, before biting on his lower lip. “Hurry up.”

Dimitri gently puts him on the bed and removes his gantlets first, and tired of waiting – when it has been perhaps, fifteen seconds barely – Claude goes on his knees and his hands find Dimitri’s tunic; he undresses him roughly, his mouth sucking on Dimitri’s neck as his fingers play with his chest, and he’s not surprised when he’s scolded. “You’re impossible.” Dimitri grunts, takes him by the chin and tilts his head so they could kiss once more. Claude whines under his mouth. When eventually Dimitri is freed from his armour, Claude circles his waist and brings him against his chest, his legs hit the bed. Claude pulls a bit more to make him understand where he wants him. The fire in his eyes leaves no place for interpretation, Dimitri’s face his red and his eyes dark, he puts his knee just next to Claude’s. He halts for a moment.

“What?” Claude says, breathless, his hands are trembling with want and desire and Dimitri just stopped in the middle of making out, how dare he?

“Nothing I…” Dimitri cups his cheeks. He looks so young, so innocent, so beautiful under the moonlight that comes from his window. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

He leans in once more, his mouth meeting Claude who has somehow melt thanks do his words, and the tenderness in put into them, or in the way he holds Claude’s face, his waist, how he takes his hand and their finger entwine. And this is how, somehow, Claude realizes the evidence he has failed to see for so long, or perhaps it is the moment it crystalizes into something palpable, unmistakable, when before that kiss it was just an idea, a blurry image Claude couldn’t grasp, and was even afraid to.

Claude feels loved.

Dimitri loves him, there is no denying it, never.

He feels loved and it’s perhaps even more intoxicating than being in love. It doesn’t make his legs weak, no, instead he feels strong, he feels unstoppable, powerful, the world belongs to him, to them, they’re both so young and healthy and they have such big dreams, and Claude loves Dimitri and Dimitri loves him back! Claude grasps on his hair, pulls on some brands, his tongue runs on his lips until it’s being welcomed inside timidly; he surges Dimitri to him with such vigour they both fall on the bed, Claude on his back, Dimitri on top, they never stop kissing each other.

To his knowledge his heart has never beaten so fast. Even when he was a child and pursued by assassins, even when he knew who sent them after him, it has never picked up such a pace, so fast Claude isn’t sure it’s not going to explode in his chest before the end of the night. He feels Dimitri is the same, for his heart beats so hard it resonates on his torso, and both their breathing get hectic and their mouth wet, their hair left in a mess by their feisty hands. Claude bites his lip when Dimitri leaves his mouth to go down, kissing his jawline to his ear, and sucking on the skin where the two meet. He feels a shiver going down his spine and in his limbs before he whines and Dimitri, feeling he’s done good, sucks on harder. “Ah, yes, Dimitri do that again.” He begs, Dimitri obliges and forces him to close his eyes.

Fuck. Fuck, he wants to say, to shout, to moan in Dimitri’s ear to mess with him, hoping he’ll become as wreck as he himself is thanks to his touches. To think he said no to that, only a day ago, to think he has almost refused the right to know how Dimitri’s hot mouth feels against his neck, how his calloused hands feels against his back, and for what? For a couple of idiots that aren’t even his people, and would sell his life as soon as they’d found out his origin? Fuck, definitely, nothing is worth more than this, than Dimitri on top of him, loving him, and this is perhaps what his body tried to tell him at Gronder Field. That this is the only important thing.

Fuck, he opens his eyes to the ceiling he barely sees, he’s hot, ridiculously hot and he’s hard, and Dimitri’s mouth has only reached his collarbone. He’s going to slow. They only have one night and Claude wants it to count.

He rolls on top, effortlessly; his first reflex is to get rid of his shirt before taking care of Dimitri’s tunic that still gets in his way. Both his hands come to his thighs and rise, get under the long shirt until it feels the softness of the skin. Dimitri’s jolts when Claude reaches his stomach, his palms enjoying the shape of his perfect muscles, their firmness, which he has often dreamed of since their stay in the hot bath. But they don’t linger here, because Claude has a goal in mind, in the form of Dimitri’s incredible perfect pecs, and he grasps them with his full hands, and they feel better than he could have imagined. His thumb runs on a nipple, it’s soft, so soft, Claude wants to take it in his mouth.

He rises Dimitri’s tunic above his head, dropping kisses on his opened chest, his neck, his ear, “Dimitri, you’re so beautiful.” He murmurs, before taking his earlobe into his mouth and sucking it, and the immediate affect it has on Dimitri, the way he arches his back and his breathing hitches, how all his muscles contract under Claude’s touch is the best reward, the most erotic sight Claude could have asked for. He’s so hard he can’t help it, his mouth releases Dimitri’s ear and he grinds his hip, his hardness rubbing on Dimitri’s tones thigh and he moans, so loud, so deeply he doesn’t even recognize his own voice.

He’s too far gone. Claude can only think of one thing, Dimitri, and pleasure, and pleasuring him.

“Claude.”

Dimitri holds him by the waist and forces them to sit. More than the action, it’s what Claude guesses in Dimitri’s voice that has the effect of a bucket of ice that would have been thrown on his hot head.

Panic.

Claude is hard and hot like the sun and he moaned like a whore into the ear of uptight, prude, _‘evil act of fornication’_ Dimitri and of course, of course he would panic. This is perhaps the second time only Dimitri has the chance to experience the pleasure of kissing and being kissed, and what did Claude do? Undressed him, pushed him on his own bed, and forced his own arousal on him.

“I’m sorry.” Slowly Claude comes back to his senses. What drove him this fast? Was it lust, really? Is that so powerful? It is all clear now, why people keep killing for love. “I am so sorry Dimitri. I should have asked.”

“It’s alright, there was barely an appropriate moment for that. Besides,” he adds, not meeting his eyes. “I didn’t stop you.”

Claude drops his forehead on his shoulder. He feels horrible, mortified even. “Will you forgive me?”

“Of course. Always.” Dimitri holds him closer and kisses his cheek, but Claude pushes him away gently, “Claude?”

“Give me a minute. I need to…calm down.” Claude explains, his eyes on the wall that separates them from Sylvain – he needs anything that doesn’t remind him of Dimitri while Dimitri holds him like he still loves him, which is an impossible task, he knows it, yet can’t find the strength to get out of his embrace.

Dimitri gives him some time, a couple of minutes where he doesn’t do anything, doesn’t speak, doesn’t caress his skin when he craves for it and rarely has Claude feel gladder. “I’ll change in my night clothes, if that is okay to you.” He says eventually, to which Claude shyly nods, letting the warmth go in an imperceptible sigh. His back faces Dimitri as he undresses, Claude refusing to see anymore skin after what happened. His head hits the wall in front of him. He’s such an idiot. To think Hilda didn’t believe he could be any more stupid.

“Hey,” a hand on his shoulder, Claude turns around. Dimitri only changed his bottoms it seems, his chest remains in plain sight. “Are you feeling better?”

When Claude nods, he’s answered with a soft kiss on his shoulder. His cheeks burn again, but not with the same kind of fire. “Can I hold you?” Dimitri demands, and Claude accepts, he falls back on Dimitri’s chest and rests there, content in the end more than anything, as the frustration that he mostly feels towards himself vanishes with Dimitri’s touch and warmth. He feels good, he feels loved, and it is all that matters in the end. Dimitri just rests his head on top of Claude’s and that’s it, that’s all they do for long minutes, listening almost religiously to the other’s heartbeats until they synchronize, along with their breathing, their thoughts, as if slowly they were merging into one, even if they know it is impossible.

Claude feels so stupid, this is what Dimitri wanted all along, what he had longed for since the night before and he has been blinded by his own desire not to see the evidence. Simply to hold and be held, to make the voices go away, to find comfort in another person’s embrace, to feel Claude’s skin against his, his breath on his neck, tenderness, love, adoration; and he is perhaps closer to define what happiness truly looks like and not Claude, definitely not Claude, and his dirty mouths and dirty thoughts.

“It’s getting late.” It already is and so much, how long have they stayed in each other’s arms, how late was it already when Claude sought for his warmth? “Let’s go to sleep.”

Claude follows him under the sheets in a holy silence. His ear on his chest, his hand holding his shoulder, Claude rests, sleep assaulting him quicker than he expects after all that has happened earlier, he closes his eyes for a second, which Dimitri takes notice, immediately.

“Tell me,” and perhaps Claude has been too much of an optimistic fellow to think he would get away with a hug and no explanation at all. “What make you change your mind?”

“Do you really need me to draw you a picture?”

“It is because of what happened to Jeralt then.”

Claude snuggles in the crook of his neck. “I realized you could have died as well. I couldn’t think of anything else, the thought was driving me crazy, I needed to see you, immediately.” For the rest, he lets his heart speak for himself.

“Perhaps I shouldn’t put you in the confidence, but it was almost the case,” Claude gasps, he leans on his elbows to align with Dimitri’s face, “As you can guess, I wasn’t in my shoes today, after what happened the night before. I completely felt out of battle, misjudging the enemy’s intention, miscalculating my attacks and withdraws, I ignored the professor’s orders, or never caught them on time; if it weren’t for Sylvain, who took a serious hit in my place, you might have to burry another corpse by tomorrow.”

“That’s why you were fighting earlier.” Dimitri nods, he can’t believe it, to think his hunch was again so close to the truth.

“I waited for him to get better and brought him to his room. We had…words. Some you’ve heard.”

“I did. I’m sorry.”

“Why? It is nothing you can be held accounted for. I, silly me, thought we were more friendly to each other after what happened after the mock battle, but I guess it was just in my imagination, or in the best configuration, a truce.”

“Why ‘after the mock battle’?” Claude smirks already, and it’s adorable how Dimitri, even after all he did and saw of Claude’s body, and felt against his bones, is candid enough to blush, still too shy to meet his eyes.

His arms come behind his shoulders, a hand travels on the base on his hair. “You should have seen me after the end of the battle. I looked like a fawn, I didn’t know how to walk anymore. Yes, you can laugh all you want, this is all your fault,” Dimitri frowns, but shortly after he captures Claude’s lips but briefly, too briefly. “Is that okay?”

“As long as you don’t put your tongue inside me I think I can handle it.”

“Good.” He kisses him again, “Very good indeed.”

Dimitri tells him how Sylvain found him dazed even minutes after the end of their mock battle. He could only feel his cheek where Claude has spread his own blood and his hands, burning, and hadn’t been able to think about anything other than Claude.

“After he saw me holding my cheek when it had been washed of your blood, he had the idea that I might have been…perturbed, by you, in some unhealthy ways, that the heat of battle has awakened the beast sleeping inside of me that I try to conceal, but which was now afflicted with yet another sin than the need of violence. He planned the hot baths in that extend, to see if I’ll still lead in that direction after the adrenaline had deflated utterly. But you were so unwell that I cared not for this kind of matter, and his experiment failed.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” Claude adds, between kisses, Dimitri has been talking for too long, his own lips feel numb. “I was in the exact same state, as I was forced to stare at your magnificent body, begging for me to touch it, a thing that was made purely impossible with the numerous witnesses that would have seen my total lack of control. I was merely trying to stay presentable during all this time, and if it hadn’t been for Sylvain again, I would have failed.”

Dimitri laughs, holding him closer, “You have no idea of how this knowledge pleases me.”

“That I find you deadly attractive?”

“…That also. But more importantly, that you’ve been fighting with this yourself. That I haven’t been the only one tortured by those feelings before I could identify what they were and came at peace with them. It explains why you avoided me after that.”

Claude frowns. “I thought you were the one avoiding me.”

“I wasn’t. It has been a busy moon for me, and since I sensed that you didn’t find my presence at your side required, I used my time at the Library, spying on my uncle. As you know.”

And then Dimitri falls deadly silent, it takes a second for Claude to understand why. Yes, Claude knows why because they have studied Lord Arundel’s schemes together, before they went to his room and drank tea and, pushed by unknown substances of Claude’s most unconventional hobby, have kissed for the first time, which they have officially stated they don’t remember. But Claude knows it’s not true, and Dimitri might have guessed Claude as well has been lying. Before he has been scared, and to confess his memories were intact appeared dangerous and the last thing to do but now, things have changed; Claude lies on top of Dimitri, their limbs tangled, their chest bare and heart opened, there is nothing to fear anymore, they’ve stopped hurting each other.

“You remember it too, right? The night I kissed you for the very first time.”

Dimitri holds his chin. “I do. And perhaps a bit more precisely than you, since I’m certain I am the one who kissed you first.”

“Oh, did you, really?” And after a second thought Dimitri speaks the truth, but he is so charming when shaken just a bit, “Perhaps you can remind me…” Claude leans in for another kiss, but only meets cold lips. Dimitri has kept his eyes opened. “What is it Dimitri?” he asks, softly, and cups his cheeks when he meets no reply. “Talk to me, I’m here.”

Dimitri stares at the side, where his table lies. “I always…wondered, why you ran away.”

“Well,” That’s unexpected, this was the healthiest thing to do. “What did you want me to do then? We’ve kissed after being under the effect of drugs I myself did and put in your tea, and you were so rigid under me, you looked scared and you asked me what you were doing here and I remembered all; I freaked out.”

“And so did I.” Dimitri replies, and it has in fact never occurred to Claude, who had naively thought Dimitri had no recollection of this incident before yesterday. “I woke up way before you and had time to remember all the embarrassing truths I told you, ones I used to keep for myself, and even ones I wasn’t even aware of; and the moment you opened your eyes you ran out of my lap without questioning my presence here, and I thought you knew everything. I thought you remembered my words and shunned me, because you were ashamed of what we’ve done, and as a friend, didn’t want to hurt my so apparent and idiotic feelings.”

Claude would have gladly laugh if the situation weren’t this tragic. “We both lied, thinking it would make things easier.” And it did, for a while. “But in the end, we only lost time. I am terribly sorry. If only we had had the guts, and took the time to get our shit together, perhaps…”

“Perhaps what? You’re still persuaded we don’t have a bright future in front of us, am I right? In the end, it’s thanks to the drugs that I’ve been able to finally understand and unveil my feelings, but the same can be said for you. Without them you’d have never let yourself be kissed like that, for you have the greatest good in mind at all time.”

Claude hides his face away under Dimitri’s chin once more, afraid it might betrayed how true his words are, and how determined he is to stick to his guns. If only it was as simple as that. If only he wasn’t so in love.

“I had thought for a second, hoped even, that your presence here meant you made peace at the idea of the two of us being together, but since you’ve made it clear, before we even had the chance to fall in each other’s embrace, that one night was the only thing I could cling to, I can only guess I lost this most important battle.”

“Dimitri, this is not a battle, I…Even if we did manage to stay quiet and I comply with such a bad plan, I can’t stay here, and you know why. It’s a matter of life and death.”

“Can I take them back? My words.” Dimitri caresses his cheek, he tries to rise Claude’s head, but Claude stubbornly refuses. “My only goal was to lift this weight from your shoulders, never to shove you away from me. Understand my distress, Claude, you cannot refuse me for some clumsy words of kindness I said, and that would have permitted me to have you if I had them hushed.”

“Dimitri, believe me when I say I am even more distraught you spoke them than you are, and above all I despite my own arrogance and negligence. I crossed the only line that was forbidden to me and I knew very well what it would imply if I did. I cannot deal with assassins from both sides. This year here at Garreg Mach has been quite refreshing in that sense since I was protected from my usually attackers, but I cannot risk my neck in my own territory. I need to leave.”

“Leave? You mean- No, Claude, you can’t be serious!?”

“I’m afraid I am, and deadly, if you’d allow me this good word.”

Dimitri has somehow frozen under his weight, and it takes him a moment to finally sit and embrace him again, his head resting on Claude’s, as if it couldn’t stand on its own anymore after being hit by such a violent blow. Claude can only guess how Dimitri must feel and regret the moment he shared his finding bitterly, but they can’t go back to their normal life now, Claude can’t.

The grip on his shoulders tightens, Dimitri shakes in his arms, “Oh no, please don’t,” Claude kisses his temple, a hand on his cheek, forces their eyes to meet – a bad idea, in hindsight. “Don’t do that to me Dimitri, don’t cry on me, don’t break the small part that remains of my shattered heart.” He kisses the birth of his nose, “I don’t deserve them anyway.”

“You’re such a fool to think you don’t.” Dimitri cries, and seeing him revealing such sorrow, such vulnerability in front of him – proud, Prince Dimitri, immaculate, untouchable - wet the corner of his eyes as well, and Claude has to blink quickly and bites on his lip to make the knot at the back of his throat go away. “You’re worth all my tears, and every drop of my blood.”

“Dimitri, I forbid you to- “

“I’ll stay by your side, at all times, I swear I’ll defeat all your enemies, be it our old friends or assassins from across the border, all your detractors,” Claude freezes, this sounds too much like the beginning of a nightmare he so dearly wants to forget. “I’ll silence them with my blade, and you’ll never have to fear death.”

“See, this is exactly what I’m trying to avoid by running away.” Still Claude holds him close, Dimitri still trembles, and his cheeks are wet, “I know you don’t find it very chivalrous, but every blood spent will feel like I’ve bled myself, and above all I cannot let my old friends perish for my sake. I don’t want them to haunt me, and more importantly, I don’t want them to haunt _you_.”

Dimitri’s grip almost forbids him to breathe properly. “I can deal with them. I’ve done so and for so long.”

“I won’t allow it. The discussion is over Dimitri. Nothing will change my mind, for on top of my own survival I’m doing this for your wellbeing.”

“How dare you!?” Dimitri hits their forehead together, rather violently, his eyes are reddened with rage and despair, Claude can easily tell, “How dare you pretend you’re doing this for my sake? You’re stealing my only source of happiness from my grip, running away with it!”

“You’d rather I risk both our lives, when we could live safely?”

“What worth is living if it’s away from the one you love?”

“Life is all that matters! Dead, there’s nothing you can do, or feel, love dies when your heart stops beating Dimitri, and mine will too if by my mistake and lack of discernment, your life should be taken away from me. It would be the same as if I had killed you myself, and I won’t bear it. I’d rather have you safe in Faerghus than in constant danger by my side.”

“Claude, with or without you, I’m already in constant danger!”

“But why can’t you see it’s the only logical solution!” It would make things so much easier if Dimitri could see the world as Claude did, if he had a decent sense of self preservation, which he obviously lacks – as if he has no idea of his importance, of his place in the world, he a future King; or perhaps he knows and he cares very little. Claude has never been more mad, the violence Dimitri addresses him is unexpected and unwelcomed, and each of his words threaten to shatter his resolve, solid as a diamond but alas, not as unbreakable as Claude would have liked it to be. Years and years surviving in Almyra have made him quite stubborn and resistant, but Dimitri reveals himself to be quite a challenge as well, one Claude would have gladly avoided.

“Listen, I know you don’t get it, but please do it for me.” Claude takes Dimitri’s face in the palm of his hands, his thumbs caressing the tears away, “If you ever loved me, as much as you pretend, you need to let me go. This is the only way I can live in peace with myself. If I don’t, and I remain in Fódlan, I’ll wonder every day about my own safety and yours to the point of paranoia, and the only moments of respite would be the few we can spare with each other, which I can only look forward to, to keep a semblant of sanity.”

Dimitri doesn’t say a word, not right away. He’s breathing fast, and loud, but eventually he calms down, Claude doesn’t know how. He tentatively leaves a kiss on the corner of his lips after the tempest has passed and isn’t punished by another lash of shouts and ire; it should do for now.

Does it really though? Claude never wants to leave Fódlan. Hence, he never wants to leave this bed. But his position doesn’t leave him the choice.

When Claude kisses him again he’s answered, by firm lips against his own, passionate; Claude is so glad he reached in the end to have known the fervour Dimitri demonstrates with regards to him, yet he’s devastated that he has to leave it behind.

Dimitri breaks the kiss. “When?” He demands.

“I don’t know. Soon. Maybe before the end of next moon.”

“You know I’ll never betray you.”

“I know you won’t.” Not now at least, but time can erase everything, every promise, and love can be altered, and Claude cannot bet his own life on something so fragile as someone’s else trust; yet this is not something Dimitri can hear now, and perhaps he would never, so Claude keeps this ugly secret close to his chest. “But there are other ways of making someone talk. I can’t risk it Dimitri.”

“…I know.” He kisses him, one last time. “Claude, when you’ll know your time has come, don’t tell me. My heart won’t handle another goodbye.”

At least, they can agree on that point. This night would be their first and last.

Exhausted by such an emotional swirl Claude yawns, and Dimitri follows. “Is it too much to ask of you to stay here until the morning sun rises?” he asks.

“It’s kind of what I had in mind. Actually,” Claude rests his head on Dimitri’s chest, with no intention of moving anytime soon, “I’ll be quite unhappy if you were to throw me out of your bed.”

Dimitri shifts under him and pulls the blanket above them both. “Perfect. Now, I just have to beg you good night, and pray for the Goddess to send me the words that will make you stay in my sleep.”

Claude smiles, hidden from Dimitri’s view; and he is glad, so glad, to have found him in this most impossible time, even if it’s not meant to last at least he’ll finally know, deep in his bones, what true love feels like, and how blissful it is to be loved back.

To his surprise Dimitri finds sleep quickly and effortlessly it seems, before he has time to bait an eye. His breathing is calm and slow, his face serene, there’s no mistake possible; it would actually be the perfect moment to leave if Claude were to be honest with himself. Every second he spends next to Dimitri makes their upcoming farewell more harrowing, and there’s only an amount of sadness Claude can handle.

But somehow, Dimitri’s sleeping face deprived of anger, tension and tears, looks so peaceful that it makes him change his mind, and he soon follows his dear one to the world of dreams.

When he opens his lids only a couple of hour later, blue eyes are on him. They have moved it seems in their sleep, and Claude lies on his belly next to Dimitri, who combs his hair with a hand, and silently he watches him, has watched him for a while perhaps. “Morning.” Claude mumbles, not quite awakened yet, “What time is it?”

“It’s dawn, barely.” The sun is up, and even if at this time of the year the days are growing longer it is not this early.

“You should come back to sleep; you still have time.” He yawns, then stretches. His leg hits Dimitri’s boot which falls on the floor with a crash.

“I was startled awake by the fear of not finding you by my side, and then I got anxious that if I came back to sleep and you woke up before me, you’ll use this time wisely to go back to your room without saying goodbye.”

Claude can’t say there’s not a hint of truth in Dimitri’s concern. He hides his smile.

“There’s no way I could have gone from my spot to your door without awaking you, I proved it just a second ago. Besides, it’s not like you won’t see me ever again. They can’t extract me so quickly.”

“But we will never be like this, ever again, won’t we?”

The sadness from last night hasn’t dissolved with the morning sun.

“No.” Claude replies, after some time, because it would be cruel to permit a misunderstanding to rule Dimitri’s heart. Their separation needs to be neat and absolute, as their love is radiant, otherwise they’ll crumble by the weight of their own hopes and dreams, which are unattainable. “Not while Fódlan and Almyra are at war, and this might take a little while still.”

“Is there any chance that you might claim the throne?”

This is yet another dream he has left with his old self and country, a place where his name is not Claude, and he just realizes now how much he’ll miss people using this name, and especially Dimitri; he’ll miss his voice more than anything, since he’ll be able to see the depth of his eyes each days on the moon he was born, as he would look up to the sky. “I might. If I don’t die until then. Do you have a plan in mind? Like inviting your neighbour Kingmate for tea?”

“I’m pleased to see you thought this far ahead to have a reason to meet me again.” Claude sits up and looks for his shirt. “Claude, where are you going?”

“Outside?” Dimitri sits up, alert, “If I don’t go now I’m not sure I ever will-“ Dimitri grasps his chin and brings their lips together, taking Claude utterly by surprise, for a longing kiss. His tongue, not so timid for their shorten time asks for bravery, forces its way inside his mouth, demanding an immediate reply that Claude is quick to give. He resists though when Dimitri pushes them back to bed. “Dimitri.”

“Were you really going to leave me without a goodbye kiss?”

“I tried not to think too much about that.” He leans in again with his lips full. “Knowing there would fatally be a last time terrifies me.” Dimitri kisses him again, holding his waist, keeping him prisoner on his bed. “Is it what the Goddess whispered in your sleep? To keep me from leaving with your tongue?” Claude provokes him.

“If only it could.”

But they both know it cannot last forever. Eventually, Claude must put his shirt back, lace his shoes and comb his hair back to something close to presentable.

And it’s not before he takes the door handle in hand that Claude realizes he’s waiting for something. After he’s been asked so many times to stay, begged even, how can he still be waiting for Dimitri to chase after him? It’s the last straw, as soon as he’ll have exit the room it will really be the end, and their last kiss would be their true last, and he’ll never feel the warmth of his hands again.

He’s on the verge of falling, and he’s waiting for the push.

But he can’t fall. He decided he won’t. He pulls the handle.

The door doesn’t want to open though.

Dimitri has somehow jumped from his bed to stand just behind Claude and his hand blocks the door. His head falls on his shoulder.

“I can’t do it. I can’t watch you go.”

Claude’s heart beats so fast in his chest, his ears, he can’t hear anything, can’t talk.

“You’re asking something impossible out of me, so I decided it’s only fair that I do the same. Claude, please, I beg you, stay.”

His arms envelop him, tightly, but Claude can’t drop the door handle. He’s somehow frozen in time and space, since Dimitri did exactly what his heart begged for at the perfect moment. He’s pushing him, to the void, he’s going to fall, he’s going to land, and they are all going to land with him.

“I’m afraid the Goddess left me without any good words for you and only she knows how much you adore them. I am not surprised, for she has abandoned me long ago, but you’re a better source of inspiration, Claude, and after sleeping in your arms I am sure I won’t be able to find sleep ever again without you. The sight of your sleeping face is the one I want to wake up to every morning. One night is not enough; one week, one moon, won’t be either. You cannot lure me into the forest and run away now. You’ve gone too far, and I’m nothing but lost without you.”

The arms on his body slide down his side as Dimitri lets himself fall on his knees, his head running on Claude’s back.

“Claude, I beg you, and I will do so until our time permits it. If you leave this room, you’ll sentence me to death, not in flesh, but in spirit. My heart would burn until it turns into coal, and any feelings, be it of joy or sadness, will feel like nothing but ashes in my mouth as the food I eat every day. I’ll be nothing but an empty walking body, which would live only to tell the tale of his misfortune, of a story where you once loved me- “

“I do,” Claude cuts him, his voice shakes, his hands too, “Love you. I’ll love you until my last breath.”

“And there’s nothing that will make me suffer more than the knowledge that, despite your feelings for me and mine for you, you’re choosing to run away, and by my own mistake.”

“It wasn’t yours; it was mine, all along.”

Claude drops the door handle, eventually; facing his own demon, his fears and hopes for the future, another dream of his takes shape in front of him, one that has been lurking into the corner, too shy, too small, too egoist to share the light with his ideal of a united Fódlan, and of long time peace with Almyra and its neighbours. The dream is of this little boy who couldn’t fit anywhere and only wanted a place to be, a hand to hold, someone to stay by his side, to love and be loved, impossibly, above all else, a hidden and ugly dream Dimitri is offering him, and again it’s like he’s known from the beginning what Claude’s heart has been yearning for without asking.

He never thought someone one day would ever love him this much, to the point of kneeling, and especially not someone as strong as Dimitri. He grasps his body from the bottom and guides him in the void with him, and it’s an embrace that feels too good to resist. How can he leave and condemn Dimitri to such a horrible fate without his own heart bleeding? What kind of ruler would he be to let someone so worth of his concern suffer so much by his hands?

“Please, Claude, we’ll find a way.” Dimitri says, but his words are already lost, Claude can’t hear them, they’re hushed by his own, loud thoughts, “I’ll never say anything, and we’ll remain discreet, no one needs to know; everything will be our secret, and we will be happy, and we will live.”

Lady Logic, his dream Judith, stands before him, a ghost warning. “Don’t,” she says, demands, orders, “Khalid, don’t.”

He quite expects to find his dream Hilda laughing at them, helping Dimitri pushing him in the void but somehow, she’s nowhere to be seen. But it’s Dimitri, older, his face covered in blood and his long night coat, that joins them, and with his lance he transfixes Judith’s stomach. She doesn’t bleed, but she vanishes from Claude’s sight, without regret, for she will never love him as Dimitri does after hearing his real name.

Claude set the trap, so long ago, but he’s the one falling into one.

Le Fou prend la Reine. The black Bishop takes the white Queen.*

Claude takes Dimitri.

“Will you, love me?” He turns around, kneels, their nose brush past each other. “Always, and so entirely?”

“Always.” Dimitri repeats, without the shadow of a doubt, “And forever.”

Claude runs his lips on Dimitri’s, slightly, feeling the soft flesh but never kissing for more. “Then I’ll leave my life into your hands.” He breathes.

“And you are the guardian of mine. That way, we’ll be equal, truly, into the very end.”

Dimitri captures his lips then and rarely has Claude felt him so intense, the grip on the back of his head hurts, his kisses will leave some bruises where they land – his lips, chin, his neck – and Claude will have to tide his collar, assuredly, but he can think of that later. For now, even if he’s uncomfortably pressed between the door and Dimitri’s body, his mind is miles away, it’s in the void, it’s falling and Dimitri is with him, their hands are holding; Claude has no idea of where this folly of him will take them, but be it bliss or despair, peace or war, love or death, as long as Dimitri never drops his hands he’ll always find a way to land safely on his feet.

“Would you accept to let me go now?” Claude asks, so softly. It’s not that he doesn’t adore the way his lips burn with Dimitri’s passion, but if they want to remain discreet he absolutely needs to come back to his room before the whole dorms awakes, and observes his stop out.

Dimitri nods, but still leaves a quick kiss on his forehead before standing up. “Now that I know this won’t be the last my heart and mind are in peace. But I do trust you, Claude, and I hope this is not another one of your scheme to make our goodbye seem easier, that you won’t run away within the day while I will do nothing but await your return tonight. Will you do me this honour?” He offers a hand that Claude accepts, rising to his feet.

“I know I’m sly, but please, Dimitri, to do that to you?”

“You punched me in the face.”

Claude rolls his eyes. “That was during a mock battle.” Yet he’s glad he does not mentioned the dagger incident, Dimitri must have felt it wasn’t something he had planned after all, and so it doesn’t suit his purpose at all.

Still holding his hand, Dimitri raises it to his mouth and drops a kiss on its back, colouring Claude’s cheeks crimson red. “Your unpredictability is part of your charms.” Their hand fall between them, Dimitri never letting go.

Claude tiptoes to reach Dimitri’s lips once more. “Tonight then?” He can’t get enough. He’ll never have enough. How could he think he would manage to stay away from him after having a taste of his kisses, his touches, his blooming affection?

“Tonight.” Yet none of them move, sharing soft goodbyes kisses against the door, until the noise coming from outside – Dimitri’s room was their own world, the rest, everything, is not relevant – students running, greeting each other, and that’s how they know their time have passed long ago.

Yet it is none but Sylvain waiting outside their room, organising Claude’s escape route perfectly – they could have risked an ultimate kiss, but they had enough, and both their lips were swollen, leaving the exact nature of their nocturnal activities with no other interpretation than the first passion of youth love.

Claude finds his room in the same usual mess; his eyes go directly to the letter he wrote to Nader in a moment of despair. _‘I need extraction_.’ He still thinks perhaps this day will come, but he has time to anticipate the upcoming disaster. Claude is clever, Claude is in love and more importantly, he’s no alone anymore.

He quickly combs his hair, does his braid, his clothes are in his cupboard, the only thing lacking is his boots. They lie under his bed on top of his numerous book; he sits on his blanket, careful not to crush his dagger and hurt his bottom.

He halts, a second; it’s been years since he’s been able to sleep without it at arm’s reach.

It’s crazy how the addition of one chosen person only can change the way you see the world, or what you thought was impossible.

Nothing is for young lovers’ hearts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about the * : the curse of being Bilingual.  
> You see, the Bishop, the chess piece, is called "le Fou" in French, Fou also means 'crazy' 'mad' 'insane' or 'reckless'  
> I had to write the French phrase because it is. So. perfect for this fic.  
> Bisous à mes lecteurs bilingues coeur sur vous.
> 
> SO I GUESS WE'RE ALL HAPPY NOW ???  
> Good. Enjoy it.


	15. Guardian Moon - Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “There might have been some…subtle changes, yes.”
> 
> “Subtle? As in?”
> 
> “As in I finally can touch the Royal Bottoms as I please and it is truly the real deal.”
> 
> “Claude!” she gasps, too loud, he hushes her with a finger on his mouth. “Yes, sorry. I figured you didn’t want it to be official, or else the whole Monastery would be celebrating your disgusting happiness.”
> 
> “We’re not disgusting. We’re in love.”
> 
> “It’s the same thing.” Hilda retorts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I finished this chapter I caught myself thinking "Gosh I just wrote 17k of Claude being horny." Which is, kind of true, but not only.  
> From now on all the chapters will be explicit by the way. Rejoice *eyes emoji*
> 
> The chapter count is set now, since I, hgh, finished writing the story...if you've got friends who don't start unfinished stories, well, you can tell them they can start this one, it's gonna be complete.
> 
> Also, [Zack](https://twitter.com/hyaenaz) made another fanart for the fic ! You can find it here [here](https://twitter.com/hyaenaz/status/1283543014766514176)

* * *

#### Guardian Moon

.

#### Part One

* * *

Claude walks to the archery field, his silver bow in hand, on the first day of Guardian Moon. He never thought before leaving his room that he would pass in front of not one, not two, but half the girls of the Monastery, their arms crossed in front of their chest with a scowl on their face. He soon finds the object of their irritation: Sylvain parades with his new silver lance, stopping every single girl that passes by him to show them his new weapon and, Claude is sure, to make a pun or two that his audience would find inappropriate, if not obscene.

He’s not the only one who’s got something new and shining the days following the ball, Claude remarks; Lysithea bought twice as many books as she usually does, some hugely expensive and Hilda had a new dress and shoes. Not finding any link between the three of them, Claude cannot concentrate enough on his target and some of his arrows miss the centre he aims for – still, he leaves Ashe speechless, and Petra comes later to congratulate his exploit.

Truth is, he has never felt better. His mind has stopped thinking about Dimitri and the problematic he used to constantly arouse, since the problem has been taken cared of a couple of nights ago. Things aren’t perfect yet and Claude doubts they will ever be, but he has rarely felt this light, this good in his shoes, this happy, simply. It’s as if the simple truths of the world, how it works, make perfect sense suddenly, and of course with the wind blowing in this direction he’ll have to aim this way for his arrow to hit the very centre of the target! Why does it seem so easy now when it had asked so much effort and concentration before?

It’s the peace of mind, perhaps. He has stopped to quarrel with two forces inside of him, since he chose a camp, since he chose Dimitri over Fódlan – well, choosing might sound like a strong world, since Claude definitely isn’t abandoning his dream of uniting the Alliance behind his banner and beyond. They will find a way to make it work, regardless of the difficulties, because Dimitri loves him and there’s nothing more encouraging and which can give him so much strength than this. Together they can overcome any obstacles, that’s what their young hearts sing at unison.

Still, it doesn’t tell him why suddenly so many of their friends made new expensive acquisitions and why the rest pouts. He seeks the help of someone involved, but since Sylvain is quite busy training with Felix – is that a new blade too ? – he has to face Hilda, and the fact that he’s lying to her about his relationship status.

He knows it’s not necessary, because as Dimitri told him the night of the ball, this kind of secret is safe in her hands – and she has, in fact, being hiding it for quite a while with a frank success – but there is something he must verify, and tricking Hilda is the only way. He hopes she won’t hate him too much for that.

“Well, Claude, it’s the money from the bet!” she says, as if it was an evidence, but Claude has forgotten about it entirely, for he had much more important matters at hand. But of course, the bet! Only people who knew about his feelings for Dimitri would have won – so Hilda, Sylvain, Felix make sense, but-

“Lysithea? How?” he exclaims.

Hilda facepalms, dramatically. “Please Saint Seiros, send me help.”

“What?”

“She found Dimitri in your bed! She ran after me while I was in the middle of changing to my uniform! She saw me with my hair down, can you imagine?”

And Claude gasps, for he has completely omitted this memory – and she did, indeed, found them in this most compromising position – and because even he has never seen Hilda with her hair down. She must have been furious.

“But she never mentioned it. Did you blackmail her?”

“No,” Hilda says, rather upset, “I’ll have you know she listens to me, and has a high opinion of me. I’m, like, an older sister; I taught her how to make up and gave her some of my dresses that were too small for me.” Claude has to say he never saw it coming, but his eyes haven’t been busy with his Golden Deers these days, which he regrets, honestly, but with Dimitri causing him so much internal crisis Claude couldn’t fight on two fronts. Hopefully, with their new configuration he might have more time to spend with his closest classmates.

“But of course I taught her well, so I had to buy her silence with cakes. But that was easier than expected.” Hilda ends her story with a frown on her face. “Anyway, you have to treat yourself too! Everyone knows you’ve bet as well, they’ll be expecting you to do so.”

“But I don’t even need anything.” Claude sighs, of course there’s the archery interclass tournament this month, but his silver bow only needs some repairs, perhaps to be polished but nothing more. Hilda is nice enough to go with him to the marketplace where he sets his mind on some strong spices Hilda has never tasted before, but which are quite common in Almyra, and which he misses. Absorbing them requires some sort of stomach endurance though, and therefore he firmly forbids Hilda to buy some. Instead, he prepares a little present for his friend Sylvain, to finally have his revenge on the ‘bet drama’.

He corners him a couple of night later, just after Ingrid’s birthday party. They enjoy curry together. “This is delicious Claude! Thank you. Is that a way to thank me or to buy my silence by the way?”

“Why would I want that?” Claude asks.

“Well, you know the walls are thin.” A direct allusion to what happened with Felix, he must have told him.

“I don’t think I’m the right person to pressure you for that kind of stuff, I’ll let Dimitri do this job for me. Thanks to you I was able to repair my bow before the next interclass tournament, and with the rest I bought these spices, I thought you’d be the best person to share this meal with.”

“Speaking of his Highness, I thought you would rather spend some precious time with him than with your humble Sylvain.”

“I hate to say you’re wrong, but I thought sharing a delicious meal with him might be a waste,” Sylvain frowns, Dimitri must have hushed his lack of taste to the rest of his friends it seems, “But more importantly, I can’t seem to find him these days. He’s always so busy.”

“Well, with the Professor still grieving, he’s taken more responsibilities, he even tutored us in subjects he feels comfortable enough to.”

Since Jeralt’s death the Monastery has lost half its population. Rhea sent the Knights all around Garreg Mach to chase after the one responsible for this crime, and Claude has heard they were already gathering some precious information that could lead them to a serious thread.

“Speaking of the devil…”

Dimitri arrives, sweating after his late training, from the Knight’s Hall. He sits next the Sylvain, humming his dish. “It looks delicious.” Claude hits his leg under the table and shakes his head subtly, hoping Dimitri will get the message.

“Oh, you should have a go Your Highness. It’s a real delight for the palate, a little something Claude did for me.”

Claude shakes his head quicker.

“No thank you Sylvain, I have a feeling this meal is special, and sharing it with me will make it lose his meaning.”

Goddess bless him.

“Oh, hn, did you perhaps talk already about something that concerns the three of us?” He asks, awkwardly sending gazes toward Sylvain.

“Not that I’m aware of?” Claude replies. They all wait for Sylvain reply, but he’s busy masticating his meat.

“Well, it is rather unlucky but Sylvain is on stable duty this Saturday, but unfortunately there is…something that requires his presence, most urgently, in the Kingdom, so I thought you could, perhaps, help-“

Sylvain swallows a full glass of water and one go before putting it back on the table rather forcefully. “I managed to be on stable duty with him and I was wondering if you wouldn’t want to take my place.”

At this moment Claude almost regrets his dirty scheme. Sylvain is too good for them.

As expected Dimitri turns crimson, “Sylvain!” he hushes, it is true they haven’t really talked in detail how much discreet they want to be and with whom they can dare not to be.

“Thank you, Sylvain, I’ll be glad.” He can picture already how they could get a comfortable place in the straw and lay in each other’s arms once their job is done. “I’ll be with Hilda on cooking duty though, do you mind take my place as well?”

“Seems fair.”

To keep the deal as solid as diamond Claude omits to warn Sylvain about how enthusiastic Hilda can be when assigned to a chore. In front of him, Dimitri is visible biting the inside of his cheek to stop his lips from smiling, and Claude can’t help but to beam for them both, staring at him with his chin resting on his hands with a look of adoration.

He brushes his foot past his leg to gain his attention. “Claude!” he whispers, when he catches the way Claude looks at him – not very properly for friends, even close ones. “Have you hit your head?”

“I think he misses you.” Sylvain enlightens him. “Anyway, I’m off. Thank you, Claude, for the treat.”

“Where are you going?” Claude demands.

“Oh, you know, I’ll go in town, see if I can talk to a girl or two.” Oh, bad idea, not with what he’s just eaten.

“You sure?”

“Oh, don’t tell me His Highness rubbed off on you already.” Sylvain stands up, Claude hides his smile behind his hand. “I was hoping you could loosening him up a bit.”

“Don’t ask the impossible out of me.” In front of him, Dimitri sighs, “Besides, I like him as he is.”

Sylvain leaves them with grin on his face, unaware of the sombre hours he’ll have to face later this night. Dimitri eyes him, suspiciously.

“Did you poison his food?”

“No!” He’s laughing deep inside, but can’t show it to the world, for his scheme would be discovered. “Come on, why would you think I did that to such a dear friend? I’m wounded, Dimitri.”

But Dimitri only rolls his eyes with a smile on his face, not taking his act seriously at all. They walk back to the dorms together, stopping in Dimitri’s room.

“I made this for you.” Dimitri handles him a notebook, where he has precisely transcribe his training regimen. “I guess it would make it easier for us to find some time to meet around the day.”

“That would be indeed quite handful. Thank you, Dimitri.” Claude leaves a kiss on his cheek. When he notices Dimitri doesn’t move or talk, he adds, “You’re still not used to it, am I right?”

“Sometimes I have to bite my own lip to make sure all of this is not a dream I would never want to wake up from.” Claude drops his head to hide his blush, but soon he’s trapped in Dimitri’s embrace. “To think you’re still here, when you were so close to escape from my reach.”

“Remember the situation is not permanent I’m afraid. If anyone else finds out, or if you’re captured by enemies, or- “

“I know, I know.” He drops a kiss on his head. “You’ll fly back where you come from at the first plume of smoke.”

Claude returns his hug, his arms circling his waist. “I hope you won’t be too mad at me if I do.”

“Let’s not talk about such a dark future for now.” Dimitri rests his head against Claude, they remain in this position for a moment in utter silence. “I wish we could stay like this all day long.”

“Yeah, but if we indeed do, the villains will always get away without being caught, won’t they? We still have so much to discover. The one who killed Jeralt, the people behind the tragedy of Duscur, your uncle Lord Arundel…we need to find proofs, and I’m afraid staying in your room all the time would alienate ourselves from this most noble objective.”

“Speaking of duty, I need to check on the Professor before I can declare this day to be over. Would you wait for me?”

Claude nods, but doesn’t let go of him yet. “Okay, I’ll change into my night clothes and meet you in, what, two hours? Does it sound fair to you?” Dimitri nods, kisses his cheek one last time before he lets go of him. “By the way, how are they doing?”

“Still poorly, but it is to be expected. Their father was murdered in front of their eyes, and they were powerless to prevent it.”

“Dimitri, I’m so sorry…”

“It is nothing, don’t worry.” Still he accepts Claude’s hand holding his own. “Anyway, they spent their days reading Jeralt’s journal. If I can guess the affection they put in the object, I wonder what could be taking them so much time to read.”

“Jeralt was the chief of the Knights of Seiros. He must have a lot of secrets of his own. Reading his journal will be far from uninteresting.” Claude reflects, then an idea surges to him. “Dimitri, please, you need to convince Teach to let us read the journal.”

“If you think it can be any useful, I’ll do my best.” Dimitri accepts without questioning, they decided they would work together, completely, and they already were in the past but now, none of them has barrier around their heart anymore, making their cooperation even more successful and giving it a different meaning. Their mind have aligned with their heart and seek for the same interest: saving Garreg Mach from this menace, and perhaps saving Fódlan in the process, and saving Dimitri from his ghosts.

But there’s still a subject they need to address, and which Claude isn’t particularly looking forward to; his suspicion of Edelgard’s vendetta against the Church has not left Claude’s mind for long, and as soon as his decision regarding Dimitri and their relationship had been settled political urgent matters came back to his thoughts, and rather quickly. Knowing how much Dimitri still adores her, Claude has not a clear idea of how he would take the news, but they do need to talk about this before it’s too late.

Not tonight though. Perhaps when Teach is in better shape, and leaves Dimitri with less duty with the Blue Lions. They have time after all, they still have three moons to go.

* * *

It takes Hilda one week.

She isn’t mad that Claude hid it from her, but the way she discovered the truth about their affair is miles away from what Claude would have considered, and for that reason only, he’ll consider his plan to be a success.

“Since when has Dimitri stopped wearing his gantlets?” She asks him after their morning classes. One day they have held hands on their way to the Dining Hall while no one was watching, and it is true that in his enthusiasm Dimitri has grasped perhaps a bit too harsh, too eagerly and his grip has hurt Claude, but only mildly. Nevertheless, deciding even a hint of pain he caused to his love one was intolerable, Dimitri has acted the following day but removing the gantlets he used to wear every day, and has done since they entered Garreg Mach.

Knowing Hilda and how her mind works, Claude has a feeling she knows, and doesn’t want to lie to her anymore. The experiment is over. “Do you have an idea in mind?”

“I suspect it has something to do with the way you two are beaming, and have stopped this unnecessary pining from across all the rooms you both stand in but at opposite side, yearning to catch the other’s attention without risking to call out for the object of your desire.” She says, and it is something he hasn’t noticed himself – they were taking precautions and hide most of their smiles but really? Beaming? “And your room is tidy, and doesn’t smell as much like you as previously, as if you were spending _less and less_ time in it.”

“Do you imply I smell badly?” Claude exclaims.

“Oh, no, it’s your natural scent. Or maybe it’s the oil you use? In any case, it’s not as strong as before. I kind of like it, I miss it.”

Since she clearly implies she knows he doesn’t sleep in his room anymore there’s no need to hide it any longer. “There might have been some…subtle changes, yes.”

“Subtle? As in?”

“As in I finally can touch the Royal Bottoms as I please and it is truly the real deal.”

“Claude!” she gasps, too loud, he hushes her with a finger on his mouth. “Yes, sorry. I figured you didn’t want it to be official, or else the whole Monastery would be celebrating your disgusting happiness.”

“We’re not disgusting. We’re in love.”

“It’s the same thing.” Hilda retorts.

She then demands daily reports of their activities, which for Claude ask for too much details, especially when it comes to the sensual field which he is not comfortable with sharing, since so few has happened when he is been craving for more, and for so long. As they have promised Claude shares this new finding with Dimitri after lunch. They hid behind a pillar when the Monastery is emptied from its students as classes are about to restart, they’ll probably be late, but they don’t care.

“I can’t believe I’ve been so careless!” Dimitri pesters, visibly annoyed at his initiative. “To think such a detail would give away the depth of my feelings for you!”

“It’s not a big deal.” After all it is not all that permit Hilda to discover their secret. But unlike their apparent happiness, which he is sure they can’t do anything to alter its manifestation to the world, the gantlets are a problem they can think of a solution to.

“Should I put them back then? Won’t people notice if I put them back so suddenly? I could say I got them cleaned, or that I broke them, yes, that would sound quite plausible.” Dimitri mumbles, his hand cupping his chin. He’s trying so hard, Claude finds him more and more adorable. “But then I’ll hurt you again. We cannot know when time will be kind enough to give us a moment of respite, and taking them off and back on again take me too much time. Definitely Claude, I cannot wear them back, I’m sorry. The knowledge that the simple fact of taking your hand, which has become quite vital to my wellbeing, and which I have no control on, could hurt you only a second is unbearable to me.”

Claude has to shut him up with a kiss. His adoration still takes him by utter surprise, the way he cares and so openly admits his love to him make him weak, so weak for him, he falls and falls all over again.

Dimitri pushes him away, of course, “Claude, what do you think you’re doing?” he whispers. “Here, in plain light? Anyone could see us!”

“It’s something I have no control on.” He says, then departs with a wink to his classroom.

His chest hits Linhardt’s on his way out though.

“Ahem.”

It seems the mage caught them a couple of seconds ago. Dimitri has turned as red as Sylvain’s hair. He’s already sending Claude daggers.

“Oh, don’t mind me, I knew it already.” Linhardt says, then yawns. “Should we go back to class dear house leader?”

Before they have time to leave, Dimitri holds on Linhardt’s wrist. “Is it the gantlets?” he asks.

Both Claude and he roll their eyes.

This little unfortunate event doesn’t stop Claude from occasionally cornering Dimitri against a wall and kissing him once he’s sure no one is bored enough to watch their way. It doesn’t happen much, to his despair, and waiting until night comes and they have the night for themselves is an agony at times, most of the times in fact, but their patience is rewarded, giving the nights they spend together the savour of victory.

This night Claude arrives in Dimitri’s room with something he’s promised, a book he saw him read – _Teutates Mountains_ , first Volume, Claude can’t wait for Dimitri to read it – when he finds an interesting discovery on his desk.

“Is that,” he takes the object in hands, inspecting it, Dimitri rushes to his side in an instant, perhaps it wasn’t for him to see, “A gift? For me?” Of course Claude jokes, but seeing a dagger in Dimitri’s room is just so ironic with his long-time embarrassing history with them, and he had to tease. “Is it an official way to declare your courtship?”

“I’m afraid it’s not.” Dimitri tries to take it back from his grip a bit hastily but fails.

“It’s a bit unusual, the handle shows sign of aging, but the blade is immaculate; it has never been used to stab anyone before, yet it’s hardly new.”

“It belongs to the Flame Emperor.”

Claude immediate throws it back on the desk as if the dagger were on fire. “What?! You could have told me sooner! I wouldn’t have dared to touch it and erase some vital proof!” What if the dagger was poisoned or worse, cursed?

“We just found it a couple of minutes ago.”

“We?”

“Me and the Professor. They…asked me to keep it.”

Dimitri explains the scene they have had the chance to witness tonight and all the new information they have in hands now. The link with the current events and the tragedy of Duscur is officially made. It cannot be mistaken; the Flame Emperor blocked Dimitri’s attack with the blade, and the force of the impact made him drop the dagger on the floor which he had to leave behind in his escape. But what were they doing so close to the Monastery? Monica has disappeared, they had no reason to take senseless risk to wander this close to enemy’s territory, except if they were growing closed to their goal, or if they had a spy inside the Monastery’s wall, which is something both Dimitri and him agree with.

What Claude doesn’t share though is the fact that he remembered clearly how much time Monica spent with Edelgard before she revealed herself to be a killer, and it’s silly because if he hadn’t been blind, Dimitri must remember it too.

Yet none of them mention it.

They lie in bed on top of the sheets, Dimitri reading a book about how to maintain swords and armours and Claude, his head resting on Dimitri’s shoulder, tries to find some kind of interest in his lover’s lecture only to fail poorly, as he prefers the curve of his nose as a better centre of interest. He kisses his cheek.

“You’re going to tire your eyes if you keep reading this late.” Their lamp won’t last another hour, the light of the candle slowly fades away. “Don’t you think you need to rest as well? You’ve been overdoing it since Jeralt’s death.”

“Why do you say that? I’ve never felt this good since the year started.” Dimitri curls his arm around Claude’s shoulder, bringing him closer. “Having found back my sleep is a real treasure I only owe to you Claude. I don’t think a lifetime will be enough to thank you for that.”

Hiding a blush away Claude buries his face in the crook of Dimitri’s neck, which in hindsight might not have been the best idea. There, he’s reminded of Dimitri’s scent, his warmth, the taste of his skin against his tongue, the way his words make Claude hot and aching for something more than a goodnight kiss. Since they got together somehow, Dimitri has got even more handsome than he was before, an effect of his better sleeping schedule, or perhaps it is because Claude sees him now through the eyes of a lover; his lips are thicker and rosier, his eyes bright and shining, his hair aren’t as well combed, giving the impression he has just exited a training session.

There’s still so much he has yet to learn, to discover about Dimitri’s body. He wants to know it by heart, and in return, to unveil all the secrets of his.

His mouth finds Dimitri’s neck. It starts with small butterfly kisses. But his scent is intoxicating.

“Claude?” Dimitri puts down his book for a second the first time Claude sucks on his skin.

He rolls on his chest, his legs on his side of his hips. “I want to make out.”

Dimitri, his cheekbone lightly rosy, definitely puts his book aside. “Okay.” Claude grasps his shirt and pulls him into a kiss, hungry, his mouth already opened and begged to be filled. They’re getting better at it, Claude can tell, they take their time, they are careful, always minding what the other wants, needs, likes, for example he knows Dimitri likes it better when his head tilts to the right, he knows he hums always when Claude scratches his skull while they kiss and so he does, tonight; he’s got fire under his palms and in his chest, of a ardour only love can provide. He doesn’t know why now. Perhaps it’s the proximity. It’s the words Dimitri spoke. It’s his scent and his body so solid and so easy to touch, to love.

Claude caresses his chest through his shirt before his hand finds itself under, it rests on his breast, his mouth lowers to his chin. No matter how he holds on Dimitri’s body it never seems to be close enough, he wants to melt with him like only lovers do.

“Claude, please.” He looks up, his green eyes that usually shine so bright darken with desire, they know what Dimitri is about to say yet don’t want to hear it, it’s not what his body wants, it’s not what their body demands, he can feel under his weight how he’s not the only one excited enough to provoke some hardness. “It’s getting late.”

This is how Dimitri says no, and how Claude lets go. He sighs – he doesn’t want to, or to show how frustrated it makes him, in fear Dimitri might take it badly – and finds solace in his lover’s arms, his breathing slowing down along with Dimitri’s. “Okay.” He says, and takes one last pick of the lips on his neck. “Goodnight then.”

“Goodnight my love.” Dimitri puts his arm around his waist and rests his hand on the small of his back, as an apology perhaps, at least it is how Claude imagines it to be.

* * *

It doesn’t happen often but sometimes Claude has vivid dreams, even nightmares, even in Dimitri’s embrace.

This one starts rather oddly as he marches endlessly on a road that only goes straight and seems to lead nowhere. The road is of a pale pink, and sometimes Claude sees lines, crevasses, and it’s not until he eventually reaches the end and halts in front of a giant nail, that he realizes he’s been walking on a giant hand this long.

Well, either the hand is giant either he’s ridiculously small, but that’s only a question of perspective.

When looks up he’s highly displeased to see who the hand belongs to. Edelgard watches him from above as if he were merely an insect, which is perhaps what he truly is to her. She seems disgusted by his presence on his skin.

“May I?”

The voice is deep and deeper than usual thanks to his short height but Claude would recognize his voice in a million of configuration. Dimitri, as giant as she, stands next to Edelgard, their hand align and Claude takes that opportunity to jump on his lover’s palm. There, it is warm, and it already feels like home.

Dimitri brings his hand to eye level, probably to study the object of their conversation. Can he see him? “Dimitri!” Claude shouts, but he doubts his voice reaches him. From this close, Dimitri’s blue eyes are three times as big as he, and from there he can see truly all the kind of blues his iris is made of, some kind of greys, and some green as well, just like his. They are like jewels, every angle gives them a new light, a new sight, each more beautiful than the one before.

He’s lowered to Dimitri’s lips then, another magnificent sight, they’re so full, so kissable, so attractive, “It’s just an ant.” Dimitri says, and his breath almost make him fall of his hand. But Claude holds still. He holds still and walks to his lower lips, hugging it with his arms spread. He kisses it, it’s soft, so soft.

Dimitri opens his mouth, his tongue seizing Claude and he swallows him whole.

He opens his eyes when suddenly a bucket of icy water is thrown at him, by a skeleton that strangely looks like Hubert.

“Awake, are we?”

Yes, definitely Hubert.

His situation doesn’t look better than the previous one. He’s now chained to the wall by his wrist above his head, his weak, he’s wounded and he only wears a long worn out shirt and nothing underneath. He sits on the cold floor, without even some straw to ease his seat.

“You shall be, for you’re about to savour your last meal.”

Oh fantastic, it seems he also has been sentenced to death.

Hubert exits and lets in his place a servant it seems, who carries his last trail. Their attire is a bit unusual, as Claude is certain he has seen it somewhere already, on a very particular event on top of everything. The blue and white drapes, the golden jewels, tissues that hide so little especially the servant’s legs – no, it’s not a servant.

It’s a dancer.

“You do look hungry.”

It’s a man, whose voice he recognizes as well – impossible, how can it be? Claude looks up and when their eyes meet, there’s no mistake possible. What is Dimitri doing here, in what seems to be the Embarr’s catacomb? – the fact that Hubert had turned into a skeleton seems less out of place, for obvious reasons.

They need to escape. “Dimitri- “

“I don’t have a name.” Dimitri sits next to him and put the train between them. “And you don’t have either.”

There is no recognition in Dimitri’s gaze, a proof he doesn’t know him, at least in this dream they aren’t friend, or anything else, anything more. Yet, Claude can’t take his eyes off of his thighs, which he lays in plain sight thanks to his attire, and it hasn’t passed unnoticed. Dimitri is smiling. “You definitely are hungry, aren’t you? Well, help yourself.”

“I would really like to.” Claude surges forward but his movement are restrained by the chain. For some reason, perhaps a spell, he cannot get on his feet either. “Can you detach my wrists?”

“No.”

Claude wonders how he’s supposed to eat with his hands tied; he’s soon given with a solution to his problem, that might arouse another.

“Oh, silly me, I forgot the cutlery.” Dimitri shrugs, then plunges his fingers in what seems to be a purée of an unknown vegetables. “Say ‘ah’.”

Fingers reach his mouth, tickle his lips and all Claude can do is stare, biting on his lips to wake up from this most disturbing nightmare. “Open your mouth.” Dimitri orders when Claude still doesn’t eat on his finger, and his remaining hand comes under his chin and forces his jaw to unlock. He pushes his fingers into Claude.

The purée isn’t bad, or good; Dimitri’s fingers, on the other hand, are quite delicious.

Claude takes his time to suck on each one that present itself in his mouth, and licks between them even when there’s no food on them, sending a not so subtle message that yes, he is hungry, but not specially for food. When he’s half done with the purée Dimitri enters his fingers one by one, “Suck on harder, there’s still some remains here.” He lies, but it’s exactly what he wants to hear. Claude licks them until droll falls from his lips to his chin and on the floor. Dimitri made himself comfortable, knelt with his legs spread on each side of one of Claude’s lifeless leg.

Then comes the meat.

“I’ll cut it for you.” Dimitri takes the steak on his hand and put half of it in his mouth. He chews before holding Claude’s chin again and lowering his jaw. He doesn’t need to ask, Claude has already his mouth opened and his tongue out.

He does swallow the meat though, but once Dimitri’s tongue advances in his territory, he doesn’t let it go. He sucks on it like he did for his fingers, he kisses those lips that filled him better than any food and the Goddess knows how he loves them, and almost whines when Dimitri, who still doesn’t acknowledge him, kisses back.

But it’s only for a second. A Tease. He withdraws, Claude is mad.

“Release me!” He demands, shaking his arms. He doesn’t care about the food, never did, he wants to run his hands in Dimitri’s long hair and to discover what he hides under this outfit.

“No.” Says Dimitri. The other half of the steak in his mouth, and pours it into Claude’s mouth once more, feeding him, but lingers there once he’s swallowed it all for more pleasant affairs. His hands, sticky with Claude’s saliva, come around his throat and behind his skull, caressing the birth of his hair while thumbs pushes on the bone just behind his ears and lifts his head for their face to angle better. He’s fully sat on Claude’s lap now, they kiss with tongue only, it’s messy, it’s noisy, it’s ugly, and utterly dirty. Claude has rarely felt so aroused by a kiss only.

“Are you still hungry?” Dimitri breathes in his ear; Claude shudders, he’s burning.

“Yes. Please, detach me.” He begs, because at this point he doesn’t care about his pride, he wants to touch him and nothing else matters.

Dimitri bites on his neck, he’ll leave a hickey, a pretty big one with how hard his teeth transfixed his skin. He comes back to his ear, taking the earlobe in his mouth. Claude moans, his head falls backwards, he shakes his wrists again. “Please!”

“No.” Dimitri groans, he orders, his eyes are severe on Claude, as if he were nothing, or his things, as if he belongs to him and had no right to speak without his consent. From then, Claude can’t find the will to speak when he’s not asked to, but he wishes this torture to end soon. He’d rather die now than to endure any more teasing. He’s hard and leaking already, he wants release.

As always it seems Dimitri reads his mind at all instant. “Oh, you naught boy.” His hand grasps his hardness, already fully erected, he strokes him softly, Claude feels like dying. “You naughty naughty boy.”

Claude trembles under his touch. Dimitri licks the skin he just bit, his hand is stroking him quicker, following the rhythm of his hectic breathing. “Please, please.” He doesn’t even know what he begs for. At this point it doesn’t matter if he touches Dimitri or not, he just wants to come.

But Dimitri has another scheme in mind, as he abruptly stops, licking the precum he got on his hand in front of Claude; he sighs at the sight. When did he become so shameless? Where has _his_ Dimitri gone?

“Do you want more meat?” he asks. Claude is afraid to understand what he means by that and blushes furiously. He nods, and when Dimitri stands up, confirming what Claude has hoped, his heart beats like a madman in his chest.

Under his dress Dimitri wears nothing, just as Claude his bottoms are bare. He takes out his cock and brushes the tip on Claude’s lips. Claude part them, the bit of his tongue tentatively takes a lip, then another. Dimitri runs the tip along Claude’s lips, starting from a corner and drawing a line on his upper lip first before it goes lower, before Claude dares to take it in his mouth, only a little. He’s so big. He’s so beautiful and so big, Claude wants to eat him whole, to taste him, to swallow every drop of him.

“Claude.”

Dimitri pulls on his hair and thrusts his hips forward, hitting the back of his throat.

“Claude!”

Claude has tears in the corner of his eyes, more by surprise than pain; and when Dimitri massages his own hardest with his bare foot he knows he’s close, so close he’s about to lose it, he’s about to-

“Claude!!”

In the darkness of Dimitri’s room Claude arises, his mind alerted of the prompt change in environment on the spot – Dimitri is holding his shoulders, and he’s very much clothed as he was before they went to sleep – but his body is another story. His skin feels hot and numb, only his cock aches and throbs, demanding immediate attention, which he unfortunately can’t quite give here.

Claude stands up, it’s even worse now. “Are you alright?” Dimitri comes closer, an arm around his waist and kisses his temple. “You were screaming in your sleep, I thought you had a nightmare.”

He’s too close, his scent is intoxicating, and Claude’s definitely _too_ _close_. He grabs his face and kisses him with an open mouth, his hands tangled on his hair, their chest pressed together. Goddess, it feels so good. “I had,” he wants to come, “an erotic dream of you,” another kiss, the need is urgent, “that can’t seem to let me go.”

Claude jumps out of bed, the cold night of the air, and the loss of Dimitri’s embrace doing wonder on his skin. “Sorry, I’ll come back in a second.”

He has rarely run faster to his bedroom, barely closed the door behind him before he crawls on his bed, his belly against the sheets, his face against his pillow and his hand between his legs. His shorts are already ruined. He moves fast and harsh, it’s not going to take long anyway.

_“Do you want more meat?”_ He comes with the words lingering in his head, with Dimitri’s voice, with the need to feel his cock in his mouth again. He can’t begin to wonder how good the real deal must feel, when just the dream of has had such an effect on him.

Before going back to Dimitri’s room he’ll need to change, but his cupboard is too far, and he has no tonus left in his legs. Perhaps if he rests a little…

* * *

Claude is awaken with the first sunrays, feeling content in a way he can’t describe, his body relaxed as if he had spent the night in the sauna. There’s someone sitting on his bed though and the fact alone wakes him up on the spot.

Of course, it’s Dimitri. He’s got his uniform on already.

“Oh,” Claude recalls what happened last night, and what didn’t – he fell asleep before he could come back to him, how pitiful. “I’m sorry. Did you wait for me?”

“A little.” Dimitri confesses. He doesn’t look angry, perhaps a bit upset – Claude would be mad if he weren’t. “After an hour I went to check on you and find you sleeping.”

So, this is how he ended up with his blanket on top of him and his books pilled on the floor.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Oh, yes, I’m actually really fine.” He can’t moved too much without revealing his hand is still dirty and probably stinks, what a great idea Claude, to fall asleep before you could clean up the mess you’ve made. “But what about you? You’re so early, and you look a bit tired.”

“Let’s say I have much more trouble sleeping when you’re not around.” Dimitri says. Claude feels ashamed, mortified even, to think he let his desire deprived Dimitri his holy sleep. Dimitri doesn’t seem to mind too much, and if he holds any grudge against him, shows none of it by caressing the hair that falls on Claude’s forehead before leaving a kiss there. “We don’t…have to, always, sleep together, I understand that it is important to have some place for yourself. I have, in fact, been a bit enthusiastic perhaps at the thought of having you for myself so close after I was certain I could never have you ever again. I thought spending all my free time with you was an absolute necessity, but it clearly isn’t.”

If it’s true Claude wouldn’t mind some privacy, it is not how he would have liked the problem to be solved though, even if he can’t say it, for he is truly ashamed of where his thoughts wander at time.

Dimitri leans in for another kiss, and he hears him, ‘ _You naughty, naughty boy,’_ said by those same lips, devouring his neck, leaving their traces on him and he’s hot again. He reclines just an inch, forbidding their lips to link. “Not now, please.”

“Why? Did I do something to upset you?”

Claude shakes his head, their nose hit. “No, far from it.” He gazes at his blue eyes; they shine with worry. “Goddess, I love you.” If only he knew just how much. “I want you. All the time. And right now a mere touch of your lips would be enough to blaze my entire body with lust so please, have pity of me, and leave me alone until I come back to my normal sense.”

In front of him and it’s not surprising, Dimitri has coloured with bright red, “I’m sorry.” He mumbles.

“Don’t be. Tell me just, where will you be today?”

“I’m going to practice on my own this morning before classes, and then I’ll help Ingrid and Sylvain with their lances training as well. Is it to avoid me at best?”

“No, never,” Claude replies, he takes his hand and kisses its palm, “I want to see you.”

Dimitri timidly smiles before he leaves Claude with his own mess of a thought.

He’s going to tell Hilda about his dream; somehow it has to get out of his mouth.

The archery tournament comes a couple of days later and it is a good excuse for Claude to focus more on his training, and less on spending time with Dimitri. Training with Shamir does good to his spirits, more than he would have imagined, as he manages to empty his head on any thoughts that aren’t his target, and Claude almost blushes when the most skilled sniper he’s ever seen congratulates him on his achievements. A story he hurries to tell his lover, even if it’s rather cursorily.

“Is it for tomorrow?” Dimitri asks. Claude nods, they stand in front of his door, Dimitri waits outside. “Then, I beg you good luck; you need a good night of sleep, for this reason I’ll leave you alone.”

“Thank you.” Claude holds his hand, the act hidden behind the door as other students could pass. “Won’t you be here to see me victorious?”

“Definitely, I won’t miss this for anything in the world.”

This promise only feels like he’s won already.

His arms and chest are steady, sure of their movements, his sight has never seen so clearly than the following day when he bends his bow, and his arrow draws the perfect trajectory, the perfect angle to end in the very middle of the targets Shamir has scattered in their training field, and even if all his opponents have improved, drastically, within the year none cannot hold a candle to him, even his old self, as if he was a new man, a stranger in his own body and it is only now that Claude realizes, as he receives the trophy he fairly won and his eyes lock with Dimitri’s, proud, impossibly happy that he got better in a way training and self-discipline cannot provide. He’s a better archer, he’s a better man, and this he owes only to the presence of a man at his side. Dimitri does him good, so much, and much more than he had foreseen at the very beginning – Claude thought Dimitri could need a friend, naively, what a joke, what a beautiful joke – and there’s only one thing that restrains him from throwing himself in his arms and kissing him in plain sight, just for everyone to see, to _know_ , this is why he won and they all lost, because they don’t have Dimitri by their side and in their heart at all times, and they will never, because he’ll never share.

Shamir looks at them both, her eyes barely moving, subtle as ever. “I envy you.” She says quietly, and for the first time he understands why.

He cannot selfishly runs to his room and holds Dimitri close for the rest of the day though, his Golden Deers, who he has neglected for far too long these days, threw a party in his honour, as if they were certain of his victory – even Leonie, who participated against him, has taken part in this by choosing the gift they bought for him.

A lethal arc.

“That way no one can resist you!” Lysithea is far too enthusiastic with the news, leaving Claude wondering who gave her too much sugar, suspecting Raphael already.

Claude holds his prize with pride, admiring the finishing touches, and how the cord bend. The size is perfect, and they even adjusted to his new strength, which he increased thanks to Raphael’s daily advices. “Thank you all. I cannot express my joy enough. Your attention warms my heart immensely.”

“How about you test it now?” Leonie proposes.

“Oh yes! Lorenz, get against the wall, I’ll go find an apple.” Hilda adds.

“What!? No! I object!”

Everyone laughs, even Marianne, who doesn’t remain alone in a corner anymore but sits with them around the banket his classmates prepared for him. They talk and laugh all the afternoon, forgetting about homework and classes, their duties and future, for a short time. But when the sun goes down Claude has ants in his pants. He imagines lips running on the back of _his_ neck while Ignaz explains what his new painting is about, and he knows he must leave them.

“Claude, do you want more cake?” Lysithea asks him.

_‘Do you want more meat?’_

He hears a deeper voice instead.

“Yes, thank you.” He says, but the hand that holds his plate is trembling.

The Black Eagles and Blue Lions congratulate him during dinner, and he spends his time with Petra and Dorothea, the Brigid Princess asking him endlessly about his new technique and training regiment to achieve such a perfect shot. Ashe joins them soon, along with Annette, who does not care much about archery but always about how to improve herself. Claude is glad of the attention and does what he excels at: he talks.

He talks and the attention he gets reminds him of a time when no one listen to his cries.

When he walks back to his room with his lethal bow in hands, and he finds Dimitri waiting for him in front of his room with a book in hand he reflects on how far he has gone.

“Hey!” He hurries to his side, he can’t help his feet, “Look what they got me!”

Dimitri quickly hides what he holds behind his back, but Claude isn’t fooled. “It truly looks majestic. It suits you. You have really good friends Claude, I hope you’ll keep them by your side as long as you can.”

They both know what he means by that, “Thank you. But I think the Golden Deers aren’t the only ones who prepared a little something for me, are they?” he leans on the side, trying to catch what Dimitri put under his cape. “Is that a book I see?” An old one, on top of that. Old means secrets, and he’d love to read them.

“Yes. A journal, to be precise. But come to my room, where we can talk about it more comfortably.”

Claude throws his new acquisition on his bed – well, on books – and follows Dimitri hastily to his room. If it’s what he’s thinking about, this gift might even be better than his actual victory.

“Is it real? Jeralt’s journal?” Claude takes the precious object in his hands, quite not believing it still. “Dimitri, do you have any idea of how much I love you?”

“Don’t be mad at me but it has been in my possession for a couple of days now.” Dimitri says, his hands behind his back and his head to the floor, “But I was hoping we could celebrate this day with this or giving it as a consolation prize in case you lost. Not that I thought you capable of losing, on the contrary, your victory was inevitable for me.”

“It’s the best gift I could have wished for!” Mysteries are really the only thing that could keep him from kissing Dimitri all night, and the best gift in the world the Goddess gives him is that Dimitri doesn’t mind.

They get comfortable on Dimitri’s bed, Claude’s back against his chest. He holds the book.

“Until then it’s pretty boring. I feel like reading a meteorologist report.”

“Is it really? I find it rather poetic.” Claude rolls his eyes, knowing perfectly where Dimitri aims to. “’Day five of Garland Moon, year 1157. Clear skies. I’ve picked some flowers for her and went back home. The look of joy on her face at the sight of these flowers will be even more beautiful than the flowers themselves.’”

“So what? Jeralt was romantic, who could have guessed?”

“He was in love. Every man blessed with this affliction is doomed to be, in my humble opinion.” Dimitri holds him closer, his head against Claude’s. “I, kind of, feel the same, sometimes. I look at your face and hear your laugh and think you’re more radiant than the sun itself.”

Claude ignores how his cheeks burn, how his whole body somehow heat with pride and joy, and ignores also how he had refused such treatment not so long ago, or how he could have been lurking in the darkness of his childhood bedroom, a frontier apart from the man he loves and loves him so well in return. “Let’s focus on the journal, shall we?” he says, but his voice sounds funny, as flustered as he is. He feels Dimitri smile against his cheek before he’s being kissed. If only they could stay like this forever.

Claude turns the pages; he stops when an event catches their eyes. “This is of Horsebow moon, year 1159.”

“The year Jeralt left the Monastery.”

Claude nods, if they want to find more information about the Church and Jeralt’s secret they might hide in here. “‘Day twenty of the Horsebow moon. Cloudy. I can’t believe she’s gone. Lady Rhea said she died during childbirth, but is it the truth? Still, the child she traded her life for doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even cried at birth.’ And later, ‘Day twenty-five of Horsebow moon. It’s rainy. The baby doesn’t laugh or cry, not ever. Lady Rhea says not to worry but a baby that doesn’t cry? It’s not natural. I’ve got a doctor examine the baby in secret. He said the pulse is normal, but there’s no heartbeat. No heartbeat!’ No heartbeat?” Claude repeats. “How can it even be possible?”

“That baby is probably the Professor, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, well, only one way to verify. You’ve got to throw yourself in their arms and check for their heartbeat.” Claude says, only half joking, his head leaning on Dimitri’s shoulder.

Dimitri only huffs, completely ignoring his brilliant plan. He pursues the reading. “’Day two of Wyvern moon. Sunny. I think I have to take the child and leave.’ Hum, this is getting disturbing.”

“You mean interesting? Look, ‘The church is always watching us. I don’t know what Lady Rhea has planned. I used to think the world of Lady Rhea, now I’m terrified of her.’”

“Jeralt? Being terrified of the Archbishop? He was the head of the Knight of Seiros, the most powerful man in the Monastery.”

“Rhea must have done something to his wife and baby to arouse such strong feelings.” Claude reflects, but what exactly? “Something even he, who had seen so many tragedies and atrocities on a battlefield, thought unbearable.”

It is true Lady Rhea always has a warm smile on her face as if all the students were her own children, and her actions towards those who need the most are immaculate, but she does not hesitate to kill her enemies without a second doubt, for those who stand in her way she’s merciless, and Claude isn’t surprised to realize there are only a few who risked their lives to oppose her.

He thinks of them, of Lord Lonato, of Solon, of Monica, of the Death Knight, of the Flame Emperor. He thinks of Edelgard.

_“Believe me Claude, against such a tough opponent you have no other choice but to play all cards you have, especially when you’re aiming for victory. It always comes with a cost.”_

“’Day eight of the Wyvern moon, more rain.’” Dimitri goes on when he notices Claude has gone silent, “’I used the fire which broke out last night to fake the baby’s death. Lady Rhea is inconsolable over the news, but I can’t changed what happened. I need to take the child and leave.’ The next entry is not until a year later, and the church isn’t mentioned…” Dimitri browses the end of the journal, but nothing catches his interest. “All we learned in the end, is that Jeralt was in love with a nun named Sitri, who died giving birth to a child, supposedly our professor, and that he thought Rhea did something to the baby, horrible enough to make him fear her and leave with his child, abandoning his duty.”

“Whatever she did, it has to do with the fact that they can wield the Sword of the Creator, and with the crest of Flames they bear.” Claude adds. Dimitri rests his chin on the top of his head, thinking hard himself.

“Do you think they could have given them some sort of Divine power?” he wonders aloud.

“No,” Claude replies immediately. He doesn’t believe in Gods, not anymore.

“Then this hour spent reading might have been for naught.”

“I wouldn’t be so pessimistic, if I were you,” Claude turns around, kissing him forehead with affection. “Our enemies aim to destroy Lady Rhea and all she represents. Knowing why they loathe her is one step closer to understand how they work, and perhaps will lead us to anticipate their next move.”

“Yes, indeed.” Dimitri circles his waist and brings him close to his chest once more. His eyes are lost way behind him when he speaks these last words, weighted with sadness. “In any cases, we will take down our enemy. Whoever they might be...”

Claude as he turns around, sees where Dimitri set his gaze, on his desk where the old dagger rest, and for some reason his stomach aches, and it’s a feeling he hasn’t felt in ages – it’s his guts, the survival instinct that lives inside him, it’s a warning, a death warning. It is not difficult for him to put all these elements together – the dagger, Rhea, the Church, the list of its detractors and the sadness on Dimitri’s face – and he feels more than ever that their quiet, peaceable life is not only fragile, but perishable.

They sleep in each other’s arms, Claude against all odds finding sleep easily. If he hushes the voice of the dead, daily harassing Dimitri and causing his insomnia, Dimitri’s presence also has the same effect on Claude’s dark thoughts, his scenario of ruins and wars and despair he often tries to think of a way to avoid, but which cause him more harm than good at the end of the road. Yet he wakes up rested, entirely, and content; Dimitri lies on his side and has an arm around his waist. He sleeps still. He looks so young, so impossibly beautiful.

How must he feel, having guess who hides behind the Flame Emperor’s mask?

“Hey,” Claude rolls on his side, he takes Dimitri’s sleeping face in his hands. “I love you.” He whispers, not wanting to wake up his lover. “I’ll never betray you, never.” He kisses his lips. Dimitri groans but his eyes stay closed. “You have me, you got me.”

Claude buries his face in the crook of his neck and breathes in his scent. They’ll stand together no matter how it ends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Skeleton Hubert is a gift for Juna. Hello Juna if you ever go this far.


	16. Guardian Moon - Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri doesn’t leave him much opportunity to talk and keeps his mouth busy, his hands are harsh on him; it’s like he’s another man entirely, and Claude has a feeling he’s already met him, on a muddy ground, that this man already broke his nose and made his lips bled, and that indeed as Felix warned him, time and time already, there’s something else luring under the Prince’s perfect act, there’s a beast, the boar, a man of violence that Dimitri himself is scared of.
> 
> He’ll leave bruise on his hips. But in the end, it is exactly what Claude craves for.
> 
> Breathless, he stops the kiss, their lips are swollen and wet of their ardour. Their eyes meet, dark, brilliant, and Claude sees it, he sees him, the man of Grounder Field, he sees Dimitri and his darkness he tries so much to keep at bay.
> 
> “Are you scared?” He whispers, his thumbs caress his cheekbones with nothing but affection. He asks, because Dimitri’s hands are trembling, and they avoid the evidence of Claude’s excitement like the plague when it already rubs on his abdomen.
> 
> Dimitri has never looked like this. He looks older, his innocent and candour are gone. “A little.” He confesses, but of what? Of himself, or of Claude?
> 
> “Touch me then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY CLAUDE !! here have some...cake ;)

* * *

#### Guardian Moon

.

#### Part Two

* * *

Hilda and Claude exit from their daily sauna session by the end of the moon, and despite the cold they take their time to walk back their rooms, for Claude has a lot on his mind and Hilda is dying to know.

“I can’t believe I’m the little spoon.” He says, very seriously. “Can you?”

“Of course. Can you picture _him_ , the little spoon?” she asks with an eyebrow raised, mocking him, almost.

“Why not!? I wasn’t raised to be a little spoon.” But truth be told, Dimitri and his board shoulders would be quite difficult to hold.

“He’s a Prince, Princes can’t be little spoons it’s the rule.”

Claude almost chokes but finds the strength to hide it as an ugly laugh in extremis.

In front of them a couple of knights, followed by Alois, pass by them, visibly in a hurry. Claude follows them subtly, alone since Hilda, having sensed the trouble Claude is so willing to be put into, ran away to her room to leisure as much as she pleases, knowing fully Claude will come back to tell her the rest of the story by the end of the day. His steps bring him to the Audience Chamber. Alois meets with Rhea and Seteth.

“We found them!” he shouts, making Claude’s work of spying a piece of cake. “They hide in the forbidden forest!”

“You did well Alois. But alas, the timing is disastrous. Apart from you, the rest of our troops are still searching for the enemy.” Rhea replies.

“Wouldn’t it be prudent to wait until Catherine and Shamir come back at least?” Seteth proposes, to which he is quickly countered.

“What!? Such nonsense! And give them the opportunity to flee again? How long until we find them again!?”

“Alois please, remain quiet. It is not suitable for the head of the Knight of Seiros to lose his temper so easily.” Seteth reprimands him.

“But they killed Jeralt! How can _you_ be so calm?!”

“Alois, we understand your sorrow, believe me when I say Jeralt was like family to me.” Rhea says then, and Claude listens closely, remembering what he read in Jeralt’s journal. “But it appears suspect at best that we were able to localise them the exact moment we’re short of troops. It might be a trap we should be wise not to fall into.”

Claude has all the information needed, he has the time – quickly – and the place – the forbidden forest, where might that be? – and he hurries back to the training ground where he knows Dimitri is spending his afternoon with Dedue, as written on the notebook he gave him, hoping one of them will know where their enemy might be hiding.

“We need to get the Professor.” Is Dimitri’s prompt response, as expected of him. “We don’t care about the lack of knights, our class will have revenge on the ones who killed their father. Do you agree, Dedue?”

“I’ll follow your orders, whatever they are, your Highness.”

For some reasons Claude is only remembered now of Dedue’s devotion, and if the fact has annoyed him more than anything at first, or could have made him jealous of their proximity, he is glad Dimitri has someone at his side ready to do so much for him without questioning, and wonders if one day he’ll have this chance.

“We need to be discreet though, the Church doesn’t want the news to break in the Monastery. Where is Teach at the present moment?”

“I have no idea. We should look for them separately.”

They part at the training ground’s entrance, Dedue going to the green house and Dimitri to the reception hall. Claude, on the roofs, follows him and jumps back to the ground when they are alone. He pins him against a wall.

“Claude!” Dimitri mutters, “We can’t- “

“You’ll most likely go to battle as soon as you find them, won’t you?” Claude murmurs, his hands on his collar, his eyes on him. “Dimitri?”

“I, yes, we will. We can’t permit to lose any more time, this might be our only chance.”

“Then,” Claude takes his chin and kisses him, lengthily, with his mouth closed but not without passion. “Promise me you’ll be careful and return safely to me.”

Dimitri looks around them, the gardens are empty. He curls an arm around Claude’s waist and returns his kiss with equal ardour. “You need not to worry, for last moon has been but a forgetfulness of mine, because of how tormented you made me. When thoughts of you only made me miserable, this time they fill me with joy and give me a strength I didn’t know I possess until then.” He kisses his forehead, releases his embrace, “Even if you’re not present you never leave me, you now live in my heart, and forever. With you by my side, I feel invincible, at all times.”

Claude is slightly blushing and he knows, and he’s stopped trying to hide it. “But you’re not, remember that. Be utterly careful, I won’t tolerate a single wound on your body.”

Footsteps come their way; they part as if the other burns their skin. Dimitri eyes the intruders, some students from the Black Eagle house, never letting go of Claude’s hand. “I’ll meet you tonight, you have my word.” He whispers, before dropping his grip and walking to the reception hall as he intent to in first place.

Claude smiles as the students pass by, and soon comes back to the roofs. In his search for Teach he falls on a most interesting sight, as Edelgard and Ferdinand are having a heated conversation just in front of the market place, perhaps about something important as the Empire’s defence strategy or so futile, like their favourite kind of tea or how they couldn’t dance together during the ball – or perhaps Ferdinand complains again about Hubert and his presence at her side, when she should, according to his noble judgement, use his services more often. In any case, the subject of their little fight interests him not, but the fact that Edelgard is in the Monastery when they have found their enemies elsewhere warms something in his chest, erases a fear that might have been irrational, and a construction of his mind only.

Soon they are pushed to the side, as Teach along with their class exit the reception hall. Dimitri rides in front with them, determination easily readable on his face, as for the rest of his classmates. Teach really managed to win their heart to their cause, and it is beautiful as it is scary to see they will all put their life on the line for them. Would Claude have reacted the same, if they were to have chosen to instruct the Golden Deer house instead? He can’t help but wonder.

Once they’re out, Claude finds himself incapable of staying still. After a minute of inner debate he unleashes Jasmine and flies to the forbidden forest, as an observer only, deciding he’ll only interact if Dimitri is in immediate danger – him, or any of the Blue Lions actually; he won’t let anyone be hurt if he can avoid it.

The place isn’t that far, not even a ten minutes ride; there’s plenty of trees to hide, and with how focus every entry is with the upcoming battle Claude hopes no one will spot him. Would Dimitri fight differently if he were to see him? Would he be reckless to protect him? Claude craves of such act of selfless love, but it is not the time to be rewarded with such a prize if Dimitri’s life is at stake.

Monica turns out to be a mage named Kronya and came along a couple of demonic Beasts to trap them. Claude is terrified of what his friends and lover have to oppose to, but they seem like a walk in the park to deal with as Dimitri and Sylvain rush to the beasts and slice them with their lance, as if they were nothing. The beasts are quite resistant though, and regenerate when they aren’t finished on the spot. Curiosity gets the best of him and Claude flies closer just to observe, to see how these beasts really work, in case he’ll have to face one on his own and not because he worries anymore. Annette is as powerful as Lysithea and each time one of their friends is wounded, Mercedes is quick to come to their side and heal them. In the middle of it, Teach seems untouchable; all their enemies aim at them, and all their bows miss.

The same cannot be said for each one of them, as Felix suffers from an important wound – how careless of him to go on a battle without a squad.

“Felix!” Sylvain gallops to where his best friend has fallen, but in his rush he misses the archer in his blind spot, aiming at him, directly going for the head. Felix is horrified, because he has seen, and his eyes are glued on the archer’s arrow. He yells, to Sylvain, not to go, but it’s too late already, and Sylvain is too careless to care. Claude doesn’t think, his arms move on their own, he takes an arrow and bends his bow. He hits the archer’s shoulder, making him drop the bow they were holding.

Sylvain dismounts and takes Felix in his arms before he collapses. “Felix! Mercedes! Come here!”

“I’m on my way!” Annette runs to them instead. Before he flies back, Claude suspects Felix uses his last strength to stare harshly at him, before losing consciousness. Hopefully, Annette isn’t only good with dark magic, and her spell is enough to stop the wound from bleeding.

From above Claude has a good sight of the rest of the battlefield; Teach is facing Kronya on their own while Dimitri stands behind, they have probably asked him not to intervene. The combat is short and one sided. Kronya tries to flee in the woods but Byleth runs after them. Dimitri trots back to his friends to inquire about Felix’s wellbeing. The battle is over, they won.

The Sword of the Creator really is amazing, just as Teach is.

Speaking of them, they aren’t coming back. Claude starts to worry, so does Dimitri; he flies to where they have run, only to face with a cloud of smoke that seems to come directly from the Eternal Darkness, enveloping Teach before making them disappear. Alone, Solon stands, with Kronya’s corpse at his feet.

“Hm. Begone with you, fell star.”

Claude’s breath gets caught in his throat. This can’t be. This can’t be happening.

Jasmine cries, he tries to hush her and departs before Solon can identify where the noise came from. Claude flies to the rest of the Blue Lion’s class, his face pale, his hands trembling.

Everyone is surprised to see him land next to them, everyone but Felix, who has awakened thanks to Mercedes’s healing, and for once he doesn’t send him daggers. In the blink of an eye Dimitri is at his side, perhaps the carnation of his skin that is so unusual and the way his eyes can’t focus on anything, even not his lover’s face, give him a clue about what disaster Claude has had to witness.

“It’s. Teach. They disappeared.”

Nothing else comes out of his mouth, but all understand the gravity of the situation.

“No, it can’t be.” Dimitri says, but without panicking, as if he could decide which fate his professor faced. “Go get some help Claude, I’m going to check on them.”

“Don’t go alone, Solon is powerful.”

“I’ll go with him.” Dedue says.

“We all go.” Ingrid adds, already mounting her Pegasus. “Your Highness, at your command.”

If it shows Dimitri is aching to take him in his arms to make him feel at least a bit better, the presence of so many of their classmates prevents him to. Claude would have killed for a kiss, even on the cheek, before leaving them to this most terrible fate, and it’s with a heavy heart that he hurries back to the Monastery, hoping if anything definitive were bound to happen, that some of the Blue Lions would have the presence of mind to take the bow instead of their future King, as Claude would have gladly do.

But as the Blue Lions have all predicted, his worries were for naught, for Teach is now back and their enemy defeated, but is it really them? They have changed, and so much, but they seem to be sleeping peacefully as Alois holds them to Lady Rhea’s bedroom, and so Claude can’t assault them with the tons of questions that are dying to pass his lips.

He arrases Dimitri instead.

“Tell me! What happened!?”

But Dimitri for once turns out to be a very disappointing storyteller. “I’m afraid I have no idea, not more than you. They came out of nowhere, the Sword of the Creator tearing the sky opened and their hair was different, their aura, somehow more powerful and mysterious than before.” Claude groans with frustration, his fists curl into balls and he hates his guts for having fled from the scene when he could have seen it all. “But before they passed out, they told me the Goddess gave them Her power.”

Claude halts. He turns around. “You’re joking right?”

Dimitri shrugs, undramatically, “I told you they had something Divine.”

Claude is about to retort but someone knocks on his door. Curious, the only person to actually knock before entering his room is already inside – Hilda doesn’t bother anymore, she just comes in, which cost her to catch them in the act of intense making out on Claude’s bed, which she, and to Claude’s despair, never seems to mind.

“Claude?” Oh my, it is Felix. Dimitri bears a look of pure panic on his face and hides, while Claude walks to the door. “You there?”

“Comin’!” He almost gasps when he sees Felix…how to say, not frowning? Making a normal face? As if he didn’t hate him anymore. It’s strange, it’s like when Hilda shouts or Marianne laughs, it’s a rare sight he should feel honour of. “What can I do for you?”

“Nothing. I just wanted to thank you. I saw what you did on the battlefield, you saved Sylvain.”

“Oh.” Next to him Dimitri frowns, he’ll explain later, “That was nothing. I would have felt horrible to watch him get hurt when I could be of help.”

“The facts are what they are. You could have remained hidden and secured your position, but you did not. I thought I should be the one thanking you because no one else saw you.”

“That’s the point of hiding.” Claude replies.

Here comes the usually, cringy face. “Dammit, why can’t you take a thanks when you get one? Just say ‘you’re welcome’ so I can get back to my room.”

“Oh,” he doesn’t understand Felix that much, it’s a shame they haven’t had the chance to interact this much within the year. “You’re welcome Felix. I’ll save your best friend anytime.”

“Saving him is the same as saving me anyway, but, whatever.” He’s about to go when Claude takes a step forward, silently asking for the rest of his reasoning. “We…made a pact, long ago. That we’ll die together. On a battlefield.”

“Oh, that’s,” Claude has a word in mind, but can’t find the audacity to voice it – and Felix still wears his sword. “Chivalrous, very chivalrous.”

Felix huffs and walks away. Claude closes the door slowly.

“Is it me, or are they a little bit gay for each other?” He asks.

And of course Dimitri blushes, he’s literally the worst person to ask this sort of thing – he’d better get Ingrid, but they don’t get along this well yet. “I don’t know.” He chokes, he knows a bit, he has sensed something perhaps. “But that would explain what Sylvain said the other day.”

“What did he say?” If Dimitri thought he understood something it might be as big as an evidence for Claude.

“Well, the day after he ate your curry he told us his disastrous night, as you can imagine since you’re the cause of his misfortune- “

“I said I was sorry.”

“Still,” Dimitri says, his cheeks getting redder, Claude cannot wait, “He told us his…arse feels worse than after getting… _’railed the entire night’_. Of course, you can imagine I had no idea of what he meant by that, and to this day I still regret to have asked for some clarifications.”

Claude snorts so hard there’s snot coming out of his nose. He would have given everything to witness such a scene.

“In any cases,” Dimitri adds quickly, a vain attempt to regain some composure and the leadership of the conversation. “Since that day I have always wondered how he could have known, to compare to this, you know.”

“Well, now we might have a bit of an idea, do we?” Oh, he feels so bad to laugh and rejoice to Dimitri’s embarrassment, but he’s just impossibly cute. When he sees the birth of a pout on his face, Claude comes to him, takes it in his hands, “Oh please, never change.” And he kisses the pout away.

Dimitri doesn’t reciprocate right away, perhaps it’s a symptom of his embarrassment still, but in the end he can’t resist Claude’s affection, no more than Claude can resist him – as if he ever wanted, not anymore at least – and he holds his waist, his head tilts to his right and he opens his mouth and welcomes Claude’s tongue inside.

“You know. It must be good, from time to time.” Claude says softly.

“Kissing? I must agree with you.” He leans in, but Claude talks first.

“No, to get railed all night long. I wouldn’t mind.” He provokes him, his eyes sparkling with not so innocent schemes. And he won, Dimitri turns crimson. “Tell me, did you ever try?”

“What? Of course not! Claude, you- “

He’s silenced with a short kiss. “No, I didn’t mean that. But even just pleasuring yourself, or exploring what your body likes and reacts to. Even now I can hardly picture you masturbating; well I kind of do when I play with myself, but not too long, except if I’m in a hurry and need to come on the spot.”

Dimitri joins their forehead together so that Claude cannot look at his face. “You’re impossible.”

“I know.” Dimitri closed his eyes; Claude runs his thumbs just under his lids. “But Goddess do I love you. I just wonder what I can do to make you feel good, and if you’d ever let me, and let yourself succumb to this most natural part of what a relationship is made of.” He whispers the last part, his eyes searching for Dimitri’s, waiting for them to open. He kisses him again when they don’t, his face is burning. “I wonder what you were taught when you were a child, sometimes; I picture you were instructed nonsense, like that you shouldn’t touched anyone before marriage, and that the act of love is only reserved for matrimony and to assure a descendance, to pass your crest to the next generation.”

“You suppose right.” Dimitri speaks weakly.

“And that everything else is an abomination, the act of a beast and not a human, not the Prince like you are. That it is dirty, filthy, unworthy of the Goddess you worship.” He makes a pause, Dimitri nods against his face, the tip of his nose brushes against his cheek. “Do you think of me as dirty?”

“No, never.” He holds him closer. “I can never take your enthusiasm as something bad, I see it in your eyes, they are only filled with love for me; I, on the other hand, am not worth of such attention, and if there must be one filthy fellow among us I shall wear that burden. I wish I could share and receive such passion coming from you, but I am afraid years of Holy teaching got me rusted to the idea.”

“But it’s not too late to try, is it? Do you really feel nothing when we kiss and hold so close like this?” Claude knows it’s not true, because he has felt it before, and the heart and eyes never lie in the peak of action. “Do I arouse so little excitement that you aren’t even curious to discover such beautiful sins?”

“No, of course not.” Dimitri opens his eyes at last, they’re dark, he’s not insensible he’s just so impossibly shy when it comes to sensuality and lust, no one taught him after all, what to do with this burning blaze that builds in his guts and travels down below. “You’re the most beautiful person I ever have the chance to meet. Your kisses make my head spin, until I don’t know where I stand anymore.”

“Currently we’re in the middle of my room.” Claude brushes his lips on Dimitri’s, taunting a kiss, never giving in. “Shall we take it to the bed?”

Dimitri replies with his body, with his hand caressing his side, his back, his ass and thigh, and grasping it, holding it to his waist; Claude understands the message and puts his arms around his neck, and lets himself be hold as his other leg curls around his hips, his mouth still a hair apart from Dimitri’s, who does not show any sign of wanting a kiss – he stares at him, intensely, so much Claude thinks he’s going to melt - and he’s lain down to his bed. He pushes the books on the floor, he doesn’t mind, they’ll clean up later if they wish to.

“Tell me then, have you always been a honest church boy Dimitri?” He turns his head to the side, giving some place for Dimitri to kiss his neck as he works on his tunic. “Or have you listened to your inner voice and dirtied your pretty hands before we met?”

“I have, I’m afraid.” Claude smiles, he wants to see this side of Dimitri, the one that he has always refused to show until now, and will care later as for why he changed his mind tonight, “When I was young, still a child, I think I was in love with my nanny.”

Who hasn’t? Claude remembers one or two he has found rather pretty, and his first kiss will always be a fond memory of his.

“Tell me about her.” Claude demands, his legs hold on Dimitri’s hip still, never letting go; he runs his hand into his golden locks, tugging his head up for a kiss. Dimitri obeys, his tongue licks on his lower lip.

“I remember the first time I was moved by the sight of her bosom, as she was hanging linen and had neglected to close the door.”

“Do women hang the laundry with their chest bare in Fearghus?” Claude asks. “I thought it was cold out there.”

“It was on a warm summer day, I remember it quite clearly, the sight will never leave me.” Dimitri eventually defeats Claude’s tunic and opens it wild, his hand caressing his chest through the fabric of his shirt; Claude loves the attention he’s being given, it’s a change and a nice one, that Dimitri would be attentive to his needs and wants, and kisses him in every place he loves. “I remember how she giggled and kissed me on the lips to buy my silence, saying it was our little secret.”

“You hid that from me.” Claude captures the lips he thought has been only his to taste, fairly amused, he imagines how Dimitri must have felt, so young and naïve, kissed by a grown-up woman like this.

“I never kissed her back, if it’s what troubles you.”

“I am not troubled dear, but never, you said? Does it mean there were more than one kiss?”

“There were plenty.” Dimitri buries his face in the crook of Claude neck and breathes in his scent, his mouth tickles his jugular, his teeth soon too; his hand finds the hem of his shirt and is running on his skin. He’s feverish, has rarely been like this before. “And I dreamed of her curvy breasts and lips, she was blond with curly hair, her eyes were warm, hazelnut, she smelled of almond and butter. I was twelve, or barely thirteen, that I can’t remember.”

It was just before Duscur then.

Claude sits to take care of both their clothes, which are much getting in their way. His hands work fast and get them shirtless in the blink of an eye and quickly find a place to rest, on Dimitri’s chest first then on his back, his powerful back; he enjoys the way his muscles tensed and his skin jolt with his touch.

“Ah, Claude,” Dimitri whines when his fingers brush past his side just where his ribs stop, and down his hips.

“Does it feel good?” He’s replied with a timid nod, “Do you want me to do it again?”

“Yes, no, I don’t know.” Claude caresses him again, Dimitri gasps, “Yes, more, please.”

Under his palms he feels, everything, how Dimitri’s skin retracts and shivers, how it morphs into his touch, welcomes it, yearns for it. He’s ready to explore all of Dimitri’s body like this, they have all night for that.

“Back then,” he resumes on telling his story, as concentrated as he is on the feeling of Claude’s hands on him, he can’t barely have energy left to kiss any part of him. “She gave me my first adult emotion as I wake up aroused from a dream of her, and guided by my instinct, had done nothing to dompt it. If only you could have seen me at that time. You’d find me pathetic.”

“Why that?” he asks, but the way his finger traces the line of his column, barely touching the skin, unables Dimitri of the capacity talk for a few seconds.

“Goddess, why haven’t we done that before?”

Claude kisses him, he doesn’t want to say it was for him, he feels bad already, there’s no need to push him. “We have time. Sometimes it’s better not to rush it.”

“We barely got any.” Dimitri takes his face in his hands and joins their lips again, moaning for the first time when Claude caresses the top of his ass. “Claude, please.”

“Is that too much?”

He rests his head on Claude’s shoulder, his hands go on his back. “A bit, perhaps.”

“We’ll stop there then,” Claude says, with patience, as deep as the love he feels for him. Even if he’s eager and wanting, he’ll wait until he’s ready.

He feels Dimitri’s fingers running shyly on his back then, they barely touch his skin, it’s deliciously painful, not to feel them enough. Claude sighs, his back shivers, Dimitri reaches the small of his back. “Can I? Touch you?”

“Yes,” Claude accepts too quickly, “Yes, please.”

His head falls backward when Dimitri repeats the same gesture Claude has done on his back a minute ago, his hands testing the waters, applying more pressure when Claude encourages him with a soft groan, or when the grip on his shoulders tightens when he hits one of Claude’s sensible spots. They’re still sitting on his bed, their trousers on, which Claude finds too tight suddenly; his mouth drops soft kissing on his jawline, his neck and down the birth of his collarbone, while Dimitri is still determined to test every centimetre of Claude’s back until his hands drew a map of his sensible places, the ones he’ll learn by heart, and where he would be leaving butterfly kisses himself when the time would come.

As if he had heard the voice in Claude’s head, once more, Dimitri invades the hem of his trousers and caresses the sensitive skin here; Claude bites back a moan by biting on Dimitri’s shoulder.

He halts, more by worry than from the pain, “Is that too much?” He inquires.

“No, please,” Claude whines against his neck. “Please, do it again.”

And Dimitri obliges, his hand sliding under his trousers and grasping his ass, groping it, sending Claude in Heaven, or somewhere fairly close to. To help his progression Claude undoes his belt, hoping the signal would be crystal clear; he’s sucking on Dimitri’s ear when eventually both his hands fondle his backside, forcing his mouth to open wild as he gasps, his hips to thrust forward. He rises on his knee as Dimitri pushes his trousers down, revealing his underpants and a more pressing matter, already hard and begging for attention under the cotton fabric.

Dimitri’s hands aren’t soft but they are warm, so warm, they must be used to cold weather and Claude is burning with want and desire, his body as it discovers the pleasure of being touched and adored, overreacts to every stimulation he’s given, even by the most inexperienced hands; because if they lack the practice they compensate with the care they put into their touches, and Dimitri takes care of him as if he was a treasure, a jewel, a diamond, even the sun itself perhaps, as he calls him so often. So of course it is not perfect, it cannot, but Claude loves it all the same. He holds his head close to his shoulder, drops a kiss on blond locks. Dimitri risks a hand on his thigh and under his underpants, he’s dangerously coming closer, both of them are.

“Ah, Dimitri!” He moans, Dimitri surprised him with a bite on his collarbone, just where it joins with his neck, and his hands are so closed to his groin he might faint. He’s hard, so hard now, and each touch that doesn’t aim there feels unsatisfying from now on.

“You moan like her,” Dimitri leaves his neck to bite his jaw gently, carefully not leaving any trace, “You moan just like my nanny when my uncle was having her in my own room.”

Claude’s breath halts, surprised by such a revelation, and with its timing. Dimitri takes down his underpants, his arousal meets the cold air. “In your own room you say?”

“Yes. As if they knew, everything, about my feelings, about my sins, as if they did it on purpose just for me to see.” Dimitri takes his chin, his kiss is demanding, and Claude gives him all. “I’ll never forget how they laughed when I ran away, mortified by the sight of their naked bodies on my carpet.” He bites on his lips. Harshly. “I’ve never wanted to kill someone so badly that day.”

Dimitri doesn’t leave him much opportunity to talk and keeps his mouth busy, his hands are harsh on him; it’s like he’s another man entirely, and Claude has a feeling he’s already met him, on a muddy ground, that this man already broke his nose and made his lips bled, and that indeed as Felix warned him, time and time already, there’s something else luring under the Prince’s perfect act, there’s a beast, the boar, a man of violence that Dimitri himself is scared of.

He’ll leave bruise on his hips. But in the end, it is exactly what Claude craves for.

Breathless, he stops the kiss, their lips are swollen and wet of their ardour. Their eyes meet, dark, brilliant, and Claude sees it, he sees him, the man of Grounder Field, he sees Dimitri and his darkness he tries so much to keep at bay.

“Are you scared?” He whispers, his thumbs caress his cheekbones with nothing but affection. He asks, because Dimitri’s hands are trembling, and they avoid the evidence of Claude’s excitement like the plague when it already rubs on his abdomen.

Dimitri has never looked like this. He looks older, his innocent and candour are gone. “A little.” He confesses, but of what? Of himself, or of Claude?

“Touch me then.”

Dimitri huffs, he leans forward for a kiss Claude refuses him, “Isn’t it what I’ve been doing for some time now?”

“Dimitri, please,” Claude holds his head, applies pressure, he stares down at those dark blue eyes he adores, he wants so much more. “ _Touch_ _me_.”

Claude breathes into his mouth, his hands shake, and when Dimitri only stares and doesn’t act, Claude takes his wrist and guides him. He’s surprisingly moving slow for something he wants so intensely, but Claude always has in the back of his mind the idea that Dimitri might still be scared and retracts, and it’s the last thing he wants, but just as surprisingly Dimitri complies.

When at long last, Dimitri’s fingers brush past his cock Claude literally shivers, he closes his eyes and bites his lower lip. They are shy at first, but Claude shows him, how to stroke him, the pace, the strength, and if Dimitri was anxious to hurt Claude in some ways, Claude hurries to prove him otherwise.

“Oh, fuck, Dimitri,” He moans again, and when his knees feel too weak he falls on his heels, and Dimitri lays him on the bed. Claude’s hand works on his base when Dimitri takes care of the tip, leaking tip, very sensible tip; Claude buries his head on his pillow, he curls his toes on the sheets, he can’t believe it’s happening, he can’t believe Dimitri is _touching him._ “This is so good!”

Dimitri, shy of these words, comes to Claude’s face, his mouth closing on his. Claude welcomes him openly, his tongue out and needy; and they kiss until Claude cannot anymore, until his breathing becomes hectic and pleasure invades him. His arm falls lifeless on his side. He’s so close, he’s coming too fast, Dimitri strokes him too well and Goddess, it’s Dimitri’s hand on him, the one he dreamed of so often and now it’s real, it’s all too real.

“Coming,” He groans, and his breath halts, his body freezes altogether, his heels push on the bed as he hits his orgasm and comes on Dimitri’s hand and his stomach.

Considering the look of surprise of Dimitri’s face, it occurs to him, once he has calmed down, that he might not have known that was meant as a warning for him.

“Oh, my Goddess, Dimitri, that was,” He says when he finds his breath back, and Dimitri has said nothing, he just looks cluelessly at his hand, tainted with Claude’s come.

“Did it feel good enough?”

Claude wants to take him in his arms and holds him, so tight, but he’s afraid he’s too weak, boneless to do as he pleases. “It was amazing.” He says, because it’s true, and even if the act was nothing new to him, being touched by someone else, by someone he loves, changes everything. Dimitri comes to his side, he caresses his cheek and kisses the other tenderly. Claude can feel him hard against his thigh.

“Come here.” He pushes his back on the bed, his hand on his chest, his mouth soon finds his lips. “You’re beautiful.” He says, so beautiful, and it’s not his afterglow talking for him no, Dimitri really is the most handsome man he has ever lain his gaze on, and his lips are the softest, his hands the warmest, and his heart the kindest. Yet as every man that was born to this world a heart cannot be utterly pure, and it seems Dimitri doesn’t know this simple truth, for he tries so much to hide what he considers a defect of his being to the world, to Claude, and he won’t let it happen.

Claude loves him, so much, and entirely, his flaws and his demons alike. And it’s the same for Dimitri.

“I’m sorry,” Dimitri runs his tongue on his cheek, “I put some of your…”

And indeed there is still some of his own spend between Dimitri’s fingers, and some fatally ended on his cheek. Claude takes them in his mouth. He sucks on Dimitri’s fingers one by one while Dimitri lays speechless on his back, his breath hitches, and Claude hopes so dearly that he’s close to lose his mind, if only he could have that sort of power on him.

He thinks of his dream, of Dimitri’s cock against his lips.

“Tell me now,” he licks on the last drop of semen, the taste is awful, he sucks on Dimitri’s thumb to make it go away, “Will you let me the pleasure of pleasuring you?”

And if Dimitri consents he does not voice it; he nods, so timidly, and his hand grasps on Claude’s wrist just like he did before, he moves as he’s been taught to. Claude takes his time to feel the muscle of his chest and abdomen under his palm, before it brushes on the bulge of Dimitri’s pants. Claude almost gasps, how can he be so hard? Did he do this to him?

He smiles from the corner of his lips.

Dimitri demands for a kiss as Claude applies more pressure with his hand, something Claude is more than happy to oblige; he could kiss him the entire night if Dimitri asks.

“Wait, Claude please,” but Claude goes down, he kisses his neck, his chest, his nipple and down again, his belly, “Come back here.” Dimitri begs, before he has any idea of what Claude has in mind.

His lips run on the bulge. “Don’t you want me down there?”

From now on, Dimitri remains utterly silent.

Claude takes out his cock from his pants, as expected it’s hard and already leaking, he’s on edge, so close to bliss. “My, Dimitri, you’re so big.” It’s even bigger than in his dream, so much Claude wonders if he’ll ever be able to take it fully. He kisses the base, Dimitri’s hips jerk, his hand comes to his head and takes a hold of his hair.

“Calm down, Dimitri, listen to me.” He runs his tongue up to the tip, tasting the precum. “Stop restraining yourself. Let it go, let it all go.” His thighs are so tensed, it’s like he’s struggling against himself, like he’s refusing the pleasure he so dearly deserves, refuses the beast to come out. Claude kisses his way back to his lips. “We all have a part of ourselves that is a bit more difficult to look in the eyes, but we all have to accept it, accept us as we are.” Claude is selfish, he’ll choose his own survival above all else, will kill even Dimitri if they were to have a deadly fight, chose to be loved over the bright future he had dreamed since he was a child. Dimitri is a child of Faerghus, raised in the cold, he learned how to wield a sword before he knew how to write his own name, and it shows in the way he loves, in the way his body wants to love Claude. It’s harsh, it’s sharp, it’s intense, it’s like a battle, and Dimitri is so good at those.

Once he feels his words relaxed him and Dimitri welcomes the idea of being pleasured with his whole being, Claude takes him in his mouth. He’s read enough to know what not to do but the size of Dimitri’s cock wasn’t something he has put into consideration, and he’s afraid his lack of experience would only permit him of sucking the tip and part of the shaft but no more. His hand strokes the base as it can to make up for it, but it is far from what he has imagined he could do, even for a first; nevertheless as expected Dimitri doesn’t care about all this and quite much enjoys Claude’s work, and Claude can tell by the way his skull hurts with how Dimitri grasps at his hair, and the way his breathing becomes irregular. Soon his thighs tense again. He’s close, Claude can tell; his mouth comes to his crotch and his inner thigh, his hand still stroking him, and when Dimitri groans and goes rigid under him he knows. Hot liquid falls on his hand. Claude keeps stroking him until the grip on his hair disappears.

He lets him time to collect himself. The silence is as awkward as any first times can be. Claude is anxious all of a sudden; when it has never occurred to him that Dimitri might have not like it while he was busy, now that his hands are free and his mind clearer, the possibility strikes like an arrow on his back he would have missed. 

But his worries are easily washed away by Dimitri’s powerful arm around his waist and his hot mouth on his. Dimitri kisses him as if his life depends on it, somewhere in his heart Claude wishes it were true. His arms hold his shoulders, his tongue plays with Dimitri’s, he’s not even exhausted he could go on like this for hours – he’s already half hard again after what happened – but this has probably been emotionally exhausting for Dimitri, and if he doesn’t doubt a second his endurance, the heart is a very unusual muscle that needs to be taken care of prudently, and not hurried, at any time.

“Did it feel good?” Claude can’t help but ask, even if the way Dimitri kisses him gave away the answer.

“It was, you were fantastic.” They can’t leave their mouth unoccupied for more than a second, barely the time they need for words of love. “Extraordinary.”

“Give me place for improvement, will you?” Claude smiles against his lips, he’s so happy he could cry, and in his arms Dimitri is happy as well, and it’s all thanks to him.

This is a sort of blissfulness that can only be attained with two hearts beating in unison.

“Oh, please don’t,” Claude frowns, “You’ll kill me if you get any better.”

And they both laugh, too happy to share their contentment, too happy to care for anything else in the world. This is the burden left for lovers, as the world crumbles around them, to be only able to see what shines in the other’s eyes, blind to more painful truth that don’t concern them. For a few minutes nothing existed but them, and this bed, and Claude’s room; the Monastery, the Flame Emperor, the voices have truly disappeared.

“Tell me,” Claude asks, a couple of minute later; he’s laying on Dimitri’s chest, Dimitri caresses his back. They are about to fall asleep. “What happened to your nanny?”

He feels Dimitri isn’t at ease with the ask. It’s a story he has shared in the heat of the moment, perhaps he regrets now, but even his dark side Claude yearns for them, he wants to know him like the back of his hand, and wants Dimitri to know he’ll love every part of him with equal ardour.

“I told my dad about it.” He replies, after a while. “I never saw her again. I think she was sent to a Church far in the West of the Kingdom.” His hand halts on the small of his back. “And we changed the carpet.”

Claude kisses his jaw. They breathe peacefully. The moment feels perfect.

“I love you.” The words come out of his chest without his consent.

Dimitri holds his tighter. “I love you too. Perhaps we could, do that again some time?”

Claude beams in the crook of his neck. “Anytime Dimitri.” He yawns still. “Anytime.”

And Claude is glad, so glad, that he’s finally got the chance to see this side of Dimitri only a few has seen before, the one Felix claims to be the only one to know, and Claude is not jealous, perhaps he had been at some point, back on the roof when he overheard their conversation he had felt left out of Dimitri’s side, but not now, not anymore; he’s the only one who got this close, to obtain such a painful confession, and he hopes it will be the bridge that will reconcile Dimitri with his demons, and help him accept him for who he is, and let Claude loves him, in his entirety.

But Goddess, if only he knew how deep these demons go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh what a nice chapter I wonder what is going to happen next the suspense is killing me


	17. Pegasus Moon : Part One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And once more Dimitri demands a kiss, an ointment to the invisible wounds of his soul, and Claude’s heart bursts in his chest; Dimitri gives him everything he has ever wanted without knowing, and some of Claude’s needs have even been invisible to his eyes before they got fulfilled. There could never be someone else who could fit him so perfectly, he thinks, someone that would love him despite who and what he is, so entirely. And somehow when the moment feels perfect and their kisses are as well, Claude manages to stop time, in his head, and the night lasts forever, and the moon never ends, for this one is the best the world will give them, or will let them have.
> 
> When their lips part the clock starts again. They have so little time, but to act as such would make them aware of the tragedy to come and which they cannot avoid, for there is not a single chance they can come back together from Garreg Mach at all. And so, between kisses and embraces they do as if they do have, time, and both read their book in hands, instead of using them for more pleasant and sensual intents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to show off I was able to cut Pegasus Moon in 2 perfect 9k piece yay

* * *

#### Pegasus Moon

**.**

#### Part One

* * *

Claude wakes up from a hand caressing his back. Dimitri is awake; his eyes are lost on the ceiling, he looks deep in thought and perhaps there are circles under his eyes. “Hey,” Claude crawls on him and gives him a morning kiss, sweet and gentle. “Did you sleep well?”

“Of course.” But it is visibly a lie; Claude fears it has to do with what they did last night, but after they got dressed he sees his dagger has changed place, and wonders why Dimitri would have looked at it. There might be something else troubling him, but he has unfortunately so little time to spare, for Claude has the most important task at hands and he is late, so late for what’s to come.

Tomorrow is Hilda’s birthday.

“Please, I need your help.” He knocked on Lorenz’s door first, only because it is the closest to his own.

Before he can expose the problem Lorenz puts a hand on his shoulder. “Come in, quickly.”

Inside, Ignaz and Lysithea are already working on a giant banner.

“I am glad we could catch you on time, you seemed impossible to grasp these days. We need to coordinate for our little Princess’ birthday.”

“Oh, hello Claude. We barely saw you outside of class the past moon.” Lysithea says, and she knows about them, she must, and chose to remain silent to the rest of the class. Claude sends her a smile, but he’s kind of scared of what she could do, especially when Lorenz stands in the room.

In any cases he is glad they all started to organize the celebration without him. How could he have forgotten such an important date? He remembers, back when he realized Hilda was turning into one of the most important people in his life, how gorgeous he wanted this celebration to be; he had planned on writing to Holst, to import some of the nicest Almyrian’s jewels and clothes, but now he barely has time to organize the feast.

And on top of that, he has to buy her a gift on the spot!

“You fall rather on point. We were about to plan tomorrow’s day. When do you usually go to the sauna with her?”

And they settle everything, Lorenz meticulous, as every ones of Hilda’s movements are precisely concealed in his notes. She’ll eat breakfast with him and Lysithea, then classes, then she’ll eat lunch with Marianne, Ignaz and Raphael, then Leonie will ask for girls’ advices, a task that will certainly take her an hour or two, at best, then will come Claude and they’ll go to the sauna, and then-

“Her brother is here?!” Claude is enraged. How dare he had the same idea as he? How dare he achieved what he had forgotten to do, dazed by the light Dimitri shove into his eyes?

“He’ll arrive tomorrow morning, and therefore we need to make sure we know where Hilda is at all time. They cannot meet before the party, or it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Claude stands speechless in front of his rival. Who could have thought he would become someone so thoughtful of his comrades? At least, if Claude ever has to leave Fódlan in a hurry he would leave her in good hands, as the rest of the Alliance. They just have to hope treason doesn’t run in Gloucester’s blood.

They all smile when eventually they meet Hilda in class, even Marianne. How far have they all come since the beginning of the year.

On their way to the dining hall for lunch Claude finds Dimitri, alone, which is abnormal because Claude has memorized his schedule by heart and he shouldn’t be here, at all, he should be training with Dedue in the Knight’s Hall-

He’s coming his way. “May I have a word?”

The whole Golden Deer class halts with him. He swallows hard; what does he want? What seems so seriously urgent? “Of course. Right now?”

“Right now.”

Hilda sends him a suspicious look while she brings the rest of the class with her, leaving them alone. Dimitri holds on his wrist and literally drags him to their secret spot. Claude fears for the worse, what has he done? Dimitri seems in a hurry, his pace is different, he’s half running, Claude has troubled following him.

But he’s simply shoved against a wall and kissed, rather brutally. He moans both of pain and pleasure when Dimitri eventually sucks on his lower lip, but Goddess, what has gotten him?

“I am utterly sorry, but I couldn’t wait. I’ve been thinking about you since I’ve left your room, and haven’t been able to concentrate on anything else but your lips.” Dimitri proves his point, his mouth closing on Claude’s, his body pressing him against the stone. “I needed you, and so urgently. What have you done to me?”

Claude considers his respond and goes with the most evident one. “I gave you a blowjob.”

“ _Claude_!” Dimitri instantaneously turns red because he knows how much this is the truth. Now that Dimitri is not unknown to the pleasure of the flesh anymore it is most likely that his thoughts would wander there more often than they did before.

“Welcome to my world.” Claude provokes him without another hungry kiss. To be honest he wouldn’t mind this, kissing Dimitri all day long, and the night that would follow, but they can’t afford such luxury, they aren’t animals after all. He breaks the kiss. “Come on, you need to be the reasonable one, you’ve always been! I’m practically sure I’ll give you another right now if you ask me nicely, so please, don’t.” Yet Claude doesn’t stop responding to his kisses and they have gone missing for long minutes, their lunch are cold when they come back, flustered, frustrated but content, to have had the opportunity more than the chance to be so close again before night comes.

If Claude has indeed, managed to unlock something in Dimitri, a restrain he had inflicted to himself and for so long, then perhaps their attraction won’t be as easy to hide in plain sight, if it ever was any subtle, and it might arouse more complication to their enthusiastic love, as now Claude has to temper his own burst of affection, since Dimitri seems not incline to do so. And in hindsight it might appear cruel to ask him to let go at night, only to put on the restrain once day comes. He can’t be this heartless, not to the man he loves, and who desperately needs it.

“You have to take responsibility now.” Hilda says when he brings the subject up. “You showed him your seven wonders, now he wants more. Who wouldn’t?”

And it’s true that Claude would feel betrayed if Dimitri weren’t reacting that way. He wants him to _want_ him, fair simple, just as much as Claude does.

But following him around at all times is beginning to blow their cover, if they had any to begin with.

“What are you doing?” Dimitri inquires as he wanders in the marketplace.

“I shall return the question.” Claude replies, not hiding his annoyance; but actually Dimitri might be of help. “I’m buying a gift for Hilda. Tomorrow is her birthday; we’re throwing a party.” He walks past the weapons, his eyes searching for the object he desires. “Oh, what do you think of this one?”

Dimitri, who has looked like a puppy too happy to play a second ago, now frowns as he sees what Claude holds in his hands. “A dagger?”

This one has a deep red handle that would match Hilda’s hair perfectly, he thinks. It’s not heavy and easy to handle. Perhaps not the most effective, but that would do for its purpose. “Why not? You did offer one to someone important to you after all. Didn’t you say it is a valuable gift in Faerghus?”

“Yes, it is but, from you? And for Hilda?”

Claude wonders at times how jealous he has been of her, and how much he still is, “I wouldn’t always be there for her. If anything goes wrong, I want to be sure she’ll be safe, otherwise my heart would worry too much.”

Dimitri doesn’t say a word more. Some subjects are yet too painful to be talked about freely. But is it Hilda, Claude’s eventual departure, or the dagger that remains in his room that paints such a distraught look on his face? Claude will never cease to wonder.

“Besides,” he feels the need to add, to ease the tension between them. “She knows how I am head over heels with you. She’ll see this as me embracing your tradition.”

If Dimitri remains silent as they walk back to the Reception Hall, at least his lips form a shy smile, his cheeks colour slightly, and Claude feels he kicked two birds with one stone.

The night they spend together is as ardent as the one before, perhaps it’s a bit better, Claude can’t really tell – it feels good, so good, to have Dimitri’s hands on him, to have them less shy on his skin – because he’s too concentrated on the present moment to compare with what they have already experienced before. They end up naked against each other on Dimitri’s bed. Claude feels like he’s going to faint each time Dimitri breathes in the crook of his neck.

He takes a moment to consider this fact, this simple truth. Dimitri sleeps naked in his arms. His eyes lost in the ceiling, Claude imagines how his past self would react if they knew, or if deep inside there hadn’t been a part of him that had foreseen it all; the Claude who ran his bloody lips on a pale cheek, the one who trapped him in chess, the one who dreamed of this perfect statue in his room and groped his perfect ass, didn’t he know there was a good chance they would end up like this?

“You did rather well.” Khalid kneels next to their bed; Claude can’t decide if he’s dreaming or if it’s an hallucination – but why would he see the self he left in Almyra? He’s wearing his stupid green tunic again, the one his mother chose for him, and he has his stupid braid and the stupid turban too.

“You must be happy.” He murmurs. He doesn’t know if he likes Khalid much now. Because in the end, they had different dreams; Khalid left Almyra to look for a place of his own and Claude took his place, but his dreams were bigger, brighter, impossible to obtain and it didn’t scare him.

Yet when he feels Dimitri against him he knows whose dream came true.

It makes him wonder how all of this is a farce. On top of his name, did he use a fake dream as well, to blend in with the crowd?

* * *

Dimitri is up and dressed before he opens his eyes. Perfect, this means they won’t lose too much time in cuddles and sweet ‘good mornings’, and he won’t be late for their perfect plan to work.

“Don’t look for me today.” Claude tells him; well, perhaps he can come to the party, Hilda certainly wouldn’t mind, but the way Dimitri has been staring at him lately is enough of a proof that it’s a bad idea.

“I’ll do what I can.” Dimitri kisses the top of his head and then he’s gone.

While Lorenz manoeuvres Hilda to the dining hall for their breakfast Claude is in charge of taking Holst and showing him around while they aren’t in class, and somehow he only understands now why Hilda always looks in distress in front of his enthusiasm, and how she could so quickly fall short of subject to converse with him. Holst is a couple of years older than all of them but he reminds Claude of a mix between Raphael and Caspar, energy wise, and talks as much as Ferdinand and Lorenz, about the same subject – although, it turns out, he plays chess as well as Sylvain, but perhaps not as well as himself.

Was it really wise to invite him in his room, filled with books that aren’t all about academic interests, to play with his chess board that bares so evidently the proof of Dimitri’s devotion to him? Claude has to insist to take the white in case Holst would be curious enough to study his king from too close and unveils its secret. He had no choice but to win, of course, but that was hardly the most difficult part.

When Leonie calls him, he knows it’s his time. She brings Holst to the Golden Deer’s classroom – he has a feeling they would get along well – as Claude, his own gift in hand, knocks on Hilda’s door.

“Oh, great, I really need to relax at least one hour.” She lets the door open as she walks back to her bed to take her stuff for the sauna. “You can’t even begin to imagine what Leonie forced me to endure for the _whole afternoon.”_

“Hilda, sweetheart, I have something for you.”

“And on my birthday! Can you imagine! What kind of girl wouldn’t know the difference between coal and kohl? Wait, what did you just call me?” She asks suspiciously.

Claude puts a knee down. She goes pale.

“Oh, no. Please. Don’t do that. I’ve had your back for the entire year, but I am not covering your star-crossed love _this far_ Claude, you sort this shit out yourself.”

“Relax, I’m not going to propose. Who do you think I am? I respect you too much to condemn you to an unhappy marriage.”

The dagger is enveloped in a golden silk shawl she shall keep as well, to always remind her of their time spent at the Monastery in the Golden Deer class. She gasps when she sees the blade. “Oh my, Claude. Are you sure you aren’t proposing to me?”

“I’m afraid I’m not. The world outside is dangerous, especially near the Throat, and who knows what is going to happen in the future,” he doesn’t want to sound too dramatic about their sombre future, after all Hilda doesn’t need to know, if only she could remain ignorant to these horrible omens, always, “I won’t always be there to protect you, I’ll feel better if you could keep this at all time with you.”

Hilda inspects her gift, Claude had time to implement some jewels to make it prettier so that she would be more akin to take it with her. “I have to admit I initially thought you were definitely spending too much of your time with Dimitri. But you’re right, one day you won’t be there to have my back, we will all come back to our home, with letters only to tell our tales.” Her forefinger runs on the blade without cutting through the skin, she knows what she’s doing. “Am I allowed to use it on Lorenz if he bothers me too much for my liking?”

“The dagger is yours, use it at your heart’s content.” Claude says with a smile, he’s glad she’s receiving it well, and understood his intention. “But we both know he doesn’t anymore. He grew on you.”

“Oh, please, wait until we leave the Monastery and he asks me to marry him.”

“Well, in that case I’ll be most happy to have saved you from yet another unhappy marriage.”

“Do you really think we would be? Unhappy?” She asks suddenly.

Claude, taken aback by such inquiry, can’t find a good word in respond. His eyes set on the dagger Hilda holds to her chest.

“I’m not blind, I know I’ll have to marry a rich noble, I’ll have no choice on the matter after all. My future is full of potential unhappy marriages only, but with you, even if it would be without love, at least in a romantic way, because I do adore you much, and more than anyone here I know, I am certain at least that we won’t be, unhappy.”

“But we won’t be happy either.” Claude takes her in his arms, carefully of the blade she holds. She helped him so much to achieve his dream, she opened his eyes to the wonderment of true love, and it would be the ultimate treason to deprive her of such a blissful feeling, of finding love in someone else’s embrace, never wanting to let go; but Hilda has yet to find her heart’s desire, and this is why, ignorant of the indescribable joy true love can provide, she’s ready to sacrifice it to the security of spending her life with a man she will never hate, and who will never hate her. “One day you’ll find the right person, and you’ll feel so stupid for asking me to marry you by default.”

“Last resort sounds more accurate.”

“Whatever suits you my little Princess.” He kisses the top of her head, she giggles in his arm.

“Thank you, Claude. Thank you so much.”

Claude rests his head on hers, happy in a way he can’t quite describe, that he has found someone like her so quickly, and that they got along so well. He knows friendships are hard to find and to bind, and so easily broken; he’ll treasure her for as long as he can, even if the border separates them.

“Tell me, what are you two going to do, after the year is over?” she asks.

His thoughts settle back on Dimitri and his blue eyes, which he does not feel ready to let go of so soon; but what can they do against time? It flows in one direction only, and they cannot go back in the past to spend more time together.

“I don’t know.” He replies, honestly; they haven’t talked about this topic, they have so much more pleasant things to discover together yet, and which do not scared Claude like they fateful separation does. “I guess we will write to each other in code, I’ll send him poems claiming my love hidden in gifts, I’ll invite him to Deridue after his Coronation, and, well, I don’t know Hilda, I have no idea.”

It is already difficult to make it work inside the Monastery, but once the year is over the real battle will begin, and their enemies are legion, the difficulties almost unbeatable. But the loneliness, the empty bed, the cold the loss of the other will cause, this is what will inflict the most painful wounds; yet it is nothing but their future, their unhappy future, for they both know nothing will ever be better than what they have now, when they aren’t yet what Fate asks them to be.

Claude never wishes so much to have a scheme in mind to untangle this mess. But they’ll have to do without. They knew from the start their love was almost impossible after all, even at time of peace.

They go to the sauna with more light topics on their lips, as Hilda tells Claude about her worst birthday experiences, which are compared to what Claude has suffered in his childhood not this horrible of course, but he’ll never tell her. Hilda has a certain talent in putting things in her good light, and turning stories to her advantage, and it is quite entertaining to watch and listen to. Once they are fully relaxed Claude guides her to their classroom, which she mostly obliges, since it is the end of the year and they all know how a birthday ends.

“Happy birthday Hilda!!” they all shouts, and of course she gasps when it is none than Holst that holds her cake. Later, she won’t believe his presence is due to Lorenz and not him, and he’ll have to invoke how smitten he is with Dimitri to make her accept this painful truth. She keeps the dagger at her side, but for some reason, Claude is sure now she’ll never use it on Lorenz.

They all celebrate in joy and kindliness when Claude hears before he sees, his boots hitting on the pavement, blond locks running on his forehead, blue eyes locking with his. What is Dimitri doing here?

He walks inside to Hilda directly, ignoring Claude’s insistent gaze, “Hilda, Happy Birthday. This is a present from the Blue Lions.” He gives her a package that elects a grin on her face, and it’s mostly filled with jewels and make up Annette and Mercedes certainly chose with meticulousness.

“Oh, Prince Dimitri.” Holst bows to His Highness, a hand on his heart. “It is an honour to see you in person, and to know you have regards to my little sister enough to attend her birthday party.”

“Oh, it is nothing, we’re kind of,” Hilda holds Dimitri’s arm and pulls him at her side, Claude is not far from them, chatting with Ignaz about his future certificate, but he sees it all. “Friends?”

Dimitri seems to consider her words. “Friends? Well, I think yes, we can say that.”

“I am but bewildered by such a news, if you would excuse me my dear robin, for I see not a single thing that could bring you close. What you two can have in common?”

“Claude.” They both reply at the same time, and he indeed feels his ears burning.

“Claude?” Holst repeats.

Follows long minutes where Holst praises his cleverness, of having befriended the Prince of Faerghus and his little sister alike, which proves he is generous at heart but also self-interested, two important qualities to be a rightful leader. Soon after his head hurts; because it is impossible to remain stoic when Dimitri stands so close and Holst is there as well, and it is not so easy to forget how many of his fellows he has killed and will kill in the nearest future.

He needs some fresh air. Dimitri follows him as he exits the classroom and brings him into his own. They soon end against a wall, their mouth busy and eyes closed.

“What are you doing here?” Claude mutters; he’s of course pleased to see him, always, but the timing is awful and the audience too large to permit a single misstep, and he’s so inclined to do one. “I told you not to look for me today. Holst is there.”

“I didn’t know. I wouldn’t have dared-“ His lips close on Claude’s, his arm holds his waist, “If I had known. Perhaps.”

“Perhaps, hn?” Claude smiles, his lips brushing on Dimitri’s, he’s high on the possibility that his presence has become a necessity. “You couldn’t wait, could you?”

“Time has become an awkward concept of mine, as its perception changes depending on your presence at my side. Be there and it passes like a blink of an eye,” he halts his speech to drop a kiss in the corner of his eye, down his cheek to the corner of his lips, he can’t help it, Claude rejoices internally, “But your absence stretches time exponentially and deprives it of any joy or brightness, and I must endure its length in painful agony, the hope of seeing you being the only thought that keeps me standing still, and not rushing to your side each time I have the possibility.”

“Isn’t it what you’ve just done though?”

“Please, be clement with my heart; it suffers from your retribution too much at times.”

Claude adds nothing, for his heart is full of words of love, and his mouth is soon filled as well with a wet, demanding tongue, which requires his whole attention. They get as comfortable as they can against the wall, with Claude’s arms behind Dimitri’s head and a leg against his hip, which Dimitri holds for a better balance. They kiss; it’s wet, languid, and it is perhaps a bit too messy for the time and place, but they don’t care much about the outside world when they are alone, or so they thought.

Claude catches someone moving in the corner of his eyes in a moment of clarity, when he remembered where they were. Lysithea stands in the classroom’s entrance with her eyes large as saucer, her jaw wild opened. Dimitri soon gasps when he sees her face and hides his against Claude’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” Claude says, his voice hoarse, “She knows already.”

“Well, there’s knowing and _knowing_.” She says after she recovers from the shock. “I mean, I did know, deep inside, this was bound to happen but reality is always a bit more violent than your imagination can be.”

“She knows?” Dimitri whispers, taking his chin into his hand.

“She saw you sleeping in my room, you know, before the ball.” He replies just as quietly.

“Oh,” Dimitri drops his head again, ashamed of his own behaviour. “Your presence was already a necessity I was too weak to resist.”

Joy fills Claude’s chest, he blushes and rubs the tip of his nose on Dimitri’s cheek.

“Eh, you’re disgusting.” Lysithea says, which reminds them of her presence still. “We’re all looking for you by the way.”

But her words fall on deaf ears, as Dimitri tilts Claude’s chin up again and kisses him as if they were alone. Claude also forgets the unwanted presence at their side when his tongue runs on his lower lip. His legs feel weak. They should take this to the bedroom and now, before it gets out of hands and Claude falls on his knees.

“Holst! They’re here!” Lysithea shouts when she gets ignored and leaves them with a mischievous grin. The name has the same effect as an ice bucket shoved on their face, and they both separate immediately, only to miss the warmth of the other’s chest already. When Holst eventually arrives both of them are studying rather intensely the last scheme Teach has taught the Blue Lions and that hopefully is still writing on the black board.

“Indeed that sounds like the perfect plan!” Claude says too loud and too soon before he could study each possibility. “Teach really is the real deal, thank you for sharing these tactics skills with me my friend. Oh, Holst, you’re there.” He hopes their lips aren’t too swollen and their eyes too darken, but he’s afraid Dimitri’s cheeks are still a bit red. “Have you had the chance to meet with the mysterious mercenary? I guess Hilda wrote you about them.”

“I’m afraid I haven’t yet! But I’ll be thrilled to have a good fight with them, she told me they were invincible.”

“Are they?” Claude asks Dimitri.

“Assuredly.”

“Well, I guess against Foldan’s army they do look prepared, but they won’t stand a chance against those bloody Almyrians.” Holst walks between them and points at the unmissable flaw in Teach’s brilliant plan, and Claude tenses, because he has seen a second too late they miss an archer. “If wyvern riders were to attack you on this side, it’s over. These bastards are often good archers, which extends the range they can cover. It’s a shame such good fighters are such savages; did you know their King has a dozen of wives? All alive, and a multitude of brats too. They spend their time killing each other for the thrones when they’re not fighting us, I wonder how it is going right now.”

Claude feels his heart beating faster in his chest, and not for the usual good reason.

“They do sound terrific. We’re lucky to have you keep the Throat intact all those years Holst, which permit us to live in a peaceful time, rid of those invaders.”

“Well, to be honest we hadn’t had a good fight in almost a year.” Dimitri sends him a look, and yes, his presence in the enemy’s territory is one of the reason, obviously, “We’ve repaired the Throat’s walls a couple of months ago, our defence is solid, they don’t dare to attack us anymore. Maybe they had enough? In any case, if you find this professor, tell them I’m all rusty and need a fair fight!”

“They should come shortly, they need to invite Hilda for tea after all, as they always do for students’ birthday.”

Claude lets out an imperceptible sigh when the subject changes to their dear Professor, someone Dimitri is so happy to talk about and praise, and he might have done it without knowing but he’s holding Claude’s hand, and has done so for a couple of minute now. He’s protecting him in his own way, from an enemy who doesn’t know who he truly is; if things were different and Holst finds out, would he slice his throat on the spot, on his little sister’s birthday?

Once Holst has gone, for they saw Teach walking to the celebration, Claude relaxes at least, his eyes never leaving Dimitri’s face, handsome face, unable to erase the adoration he wields for him. He could give him the world if he asked for it.

“Thank you.” They’re still holding hands.

“How are you feeling?”

“Not so good I must admit.” He frankly won’t say no to a hug or more, but they overpassed their limit enough for an entire week.

“You should return to the party, and I leave for training. I’ve been a bit off these days, and Felix won’t even spare with me on some occasions.”

“It’s not like that.” Claude holds on his hand tighter. “We aren’t like that.”

“I know.” Dimitri kisses the top of his head. “I know.”

While in their own bubble they miss Teach, along with Hilda and her dear brother, walking in front of the classroom for their long-awaited tea. Holst gazes to their linked hands but turns his head as soon as Hilda asks for his attention.

The subject of his family is soon addressed again, as Dimitri is curious himself to know how Claude has spent his childhood, and how much the horrible things Holst has implied are true. Claude is trying to read another magic book Linhardt recommended him, his back on Dimitri’s wall. They’ve put their night clothes on.

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?”

Claude closes the book. It’s a bit too difficult for him anyway. “I don’t exactly know. Alive, eight or nine, perhaps. All step siblings. My father divorced of his other wives, by the way, it’s a concept that seems difficult to understand here.”

“So your parents didn’t have any other child apart from you?”

Claude nods, “My mother was already a bit old when she managed to flee from old Riegan’s grip. She had me, but then she couldn’t get pregnant anymore.”

“That’s regrettable.”

“I agree. Since I’m the Queen’s son I shall be the one claiming the throne, which of course, caused my stepbrothers not to like me much. My parents are really pragmatic, they taught me that if I wanted something, I had to fight for it, like they both did, and never protected me against my attackers, even at a very young age.”

“This is why you’re so good at scheming and anticipating.”

“It was a vital necessity for me.” Claude opens his book again, feeling he didn’t want to reveal more painful memory tonight. “It soon became a hobby, and even now when I’m at peace, my mind constantly looks for several ways to win my battles, regardless of the means.”

“It makes me think of the time Gustave forced me to hunt a deer in the middle of the night. During winter. I was, what, seven perhaps?”

“Seven?” Claude puts down his book again.

“And the next year he made me bring buckets of water down the mountain, while it was snowing. I was wearing an armour.”

“This would explain,” Claude crawls on him and pinches his biceps, rock solid, “Your incredible strength.”

“The Blaiddyd have always been strong, it’s in our blood, it’s because of our crest.”

“Don’t let them reduce you to something you have received from the Goddess supposedly, when you have been working so hard, and still do. You owe your own strength to none but yourself Dimitri.”

“Thank you.” Dimitri puts a finger under Claude’s chin, bringing his head up, the message is clear and Claude leans in. “But I’m afraid this never seems to be enough. There are all sort of strengths in the world, and some are unreachable to me. For example, before I met you, I was nothing but weak to the voices whispering insanities in my ears.”

“But you’ve mastered them now.”

“Barely.” Dimitri admits, he stares at Claude, caresses his face and puts his braid behind his ear. “ _You_ mastered them. In front of such opponents, I am nothing without you.”

And once more Dimitri demands a kiss, an ointment to the invisible wounds of his soul, and Claude’s heart bursts in his chest; Dimitri gives him everything he has ever wanted without knowing, and some of Claude’s needs have even been invisible to his eyes before they got fulfilled. There could never be someone else who could fit him so perfectly, he thinks, someone that would love him despite who and what he is, so entirely. And somehow when the moment feels perfect and their kisses are as well, Claude manages to stop time, in his head, and the night lasts forever, and the moon never ends, for this one is the best the world will give them, or will let them have.

When their lips part the clock starts again. They have so little time, but to act as such would make them aware of the tragedy to come and which they cannot avoid, for there is not a single chance they can come back together from Garreg Mach at all. And so, between kisses and embraces they do as if they do have, time, and both read their book in hands, instead of using them for more pleasant and sensual intents.

“Oh, you’re already halfway.” Dimitri still reads ‘Teutate Mountains’ with scholar seriousness, but considering what is going to happen in a few pages, he’ll have to drop the serious look on his face. Claude can’t wait.

“I am indeed. I thought they were supposed to be in love, but they keep being aggressive to each other.”

Claude bursts out of laughing. “Well, be patient, would you? Doesn’t it ring a bell?”

Dimitri rolls his eyes. Claude makes him put the book away. Sleep comes easily with how full their heart are.

* * *

According to his ears and eyes, which he has everywhere at the Monastery, the moment Teach arose from their sleep they had been in Lady Rhea’s lap, and they hadn’t escaped – if they wished to – until the next day. If they have seemed equal to themselves when they took Hilda for tea, Claude still wonders why Lady Rhea would spend so much of her precious time with them, especially after what he read on Jeralt’s journal.

And now, Dimitri informed him of this moon’s mission – they’ll assist Teach with something but what? And on top of everything, Lady Rhea will join them!

This is too much for someone as curious as Claude, and at the first ray of dawn he can be found in the corridor before the Antechamber, spying on Lady Rhea’s comes and goes, and how Seteth seems to avoid her these days. Did they have an argument? Why? And why now, Claude wonders, which is perhaps the most important detail of all?

It must have to do with Teach, and how they changed, how they received the power of the Goddess – and why they did. What has Lady Rhea in mind? Why a sort of celebration when they still have to catch the Flame Emperor?

After a couple of hours and missed lessons he’s sure Hanneman would gladly scold him for, Claude is finally rewarded, with not one but two clues to where their investigation must lead them. First, Seteth seems to share their concern about what the Archbishop might have done to baby Teach, since they have read the Jeralt’s journal as well. And, second, hurt by their dispute, Lady Rhea has done a little mistake, searching for some sort of comfort perhaps, by going to a secret place Claude has never seen before and where he suspects the Blue Lions’ mission will take place at the end of the moon.

Lady Rhea disappears behind a stone wall and Claude is too slow; the moment he approaches the place that has seen the Archbishop disappear, the wall remains silent and insensitive to Claude’s touches. There is a hidden mechanism at work and if it requires some sort of talent for faith and magical art, this is where Claude’s luck ends.

He’s lost in thoughts for most of the week, thinking about what Seteth told Lady Rhea – _‘…nothing, questionable I hope?_ ’ as if he doubts her words, as if their suspicions were real – and reflecting on her behaviour since they’ve joined Garreg Mach, and what she represents for the rest of Fódlan. She is and has been for so long the uncontested leader of the Church, has seen Kings and Emperor fall, she’s seen war outside of Fódlan and within its borders and yet she still remains, youthful as ever, as if she never aged, never perished, never get wounds that she cannot heal. Lady Rhea is a mystery that cannot be questioned or inquired; as an outsider Claude might well be the best student to reconsider her central position, but he’s afraid some other has initiated action before he could give it a try, and now Claude can’t find them.

Edelgard and Hubert have vanished from Garreg Mach entirely.

Even Ferdinand wonders where they have gone to.

“I am sure if it has been for something of importance that my father would have warned me.” He says, but even he has lost his carefree attitude. He feels something is off with his principal rivals and he doesn’t like it, perhaps even more than Claude and he can easily understand why. Ferdinand has spent his whole life running after Edelgard, trying to be her best opponent in order to make a better leader out of her, by constantly opposing to her and she disappeared with Hubert, all of the people, the man he loathes, without saying a single word to him.

And once again their worries join at night, as Dimitri is studying the Flame Emperor’s dagger, or pretends to, while Claude reads another one of his numerous books. The name is on both of their lips, yet none seems to find the courage to speak of it.

Claude tries. But he hits a wall.

“By the way, do you have any idea of where our little Princess has gone?” He asks, keeping his voice as carefree as possible, regardless of the meaning he puts into his words.

If there’s something Claude is good at, it’s fooling people, and even Dimitri if he has to; and Dimitri is as much a disaster as Claude has mastered this skill when it concerns lying, and he looks away, drops the dagger to his night table, “I am afraid I do not. My apologies.”

He holds his feelings close to his heart, for her at least, and Claude hopes for him as well. He’s done being jealous of the very specific kind of love he arbours for his lost sister long ago, but there’s still something in the way he, at all time, avoids the subject that makes him uneasy, as if there was still something Dimitri was hiding from him despite all they have been through, all they have done with each other, when Claude has revealed all his secrets and more.

Well, not exactly, actually. The biggest secret of all remains deep inside his heart, and in the darkness of his subconscious.

* * *

Pegasus moon isn’t exactly the warmest moon of the year but it’s enough for Dimitri to decide they can have long walks together in the Monastery whereabouts, hands in hands, _outside_ , while no one is there to witness their _disgusting_ puppy love, as state by Hilda – to think his own best friend would stab him in the back like this! – and if Claude kind of likes the idea of spending more of his time not hiding how in love he is and wants to be with the heir of Faerghus, he would have liked their moments of respite not to be at the expense of his health, or cause his poor fingers to freeze to death. He asks Dimitri to hold his dominant hand in case he suffers from chilblain and can’t use his bow anymore, to which Dimitri laughs in the ugliest way.

“You aren’t made of sugar, are you?”

“As you might know now I am not used to the cold, even less this humidity.” Claude pesters, but in the end he surrenders at the first smile Dimitri sends him, as it is warm enough to light any heart with radiant flames.

The moon is rather quiet, as they have reached half of it; it is perhaps because they’ve been used to such dramatic events the past few weeks, but the emptiness of their days, the lack of worry on everyone’s faces, the absolute slow pace everyone seems to follow plunged them into an awkward state of lethargy, and if it weren’t from their suspicion about the Flame Emperor’s identity, an intuition they both share but never addressed, or their blossoming affection towards the other, then Pegasus moon might have well not happened at all, or at least in a couple of years it would feel as if it truly didn’t.

“Students just want this moon never to end, for it is the penultimate one before we all go home.”

“Humans fear changing and separation, but it is part of life. It is not a reason to slack off; by doing nothing you do not stop the course of time, or I would have done so for so long, to buy more time that I could spend with you.”

“Your words touch me.” Dimitri slows down his pace, purposely Claude assumes, he wants to prove him a point, “But see how this walk would be nicer if we took the appropriate time to enjoy it to its fullest?”

“Unlike you my neural system isn’t anesthetized to such cold temperature, and despite your presence at my side, which is the most recomforting truth to ever exist, Dimitri, I’m afraid I am utterly freezing.”

This seems to end the absurd debate of the ideal pace a walk around with your lover shall have, and quiets Dimitri for some time. When he speaks again, it is about a subject Claude is most happy about.

“By the way I have, hm, completed my reading while you were, how did you say already, ‘investigating on some urgent matter’ you didn’t think was important enough to warn me about.”

Claude rolls his eyes, Dimitri isn’t exactly subtle, or easy to miss; he makes spying an impossible art when Claude is a magician, but that he cannot say. “Oh? So? What did you think of it then?” If Dimitri refers to Teutate Mountains, first volume, then it might explain why he was so keen of demanding this long detour, far from all ears, and where they could discuss at ease of such a touchy subject, but which holds a certain importance for Claude and his wellbeing.

His reading must have brought him to the so famous ‘evil act of fornication’ scene Dimitri seems so shy about.

“I must admit, that until now, I was kind of…curious about how we would, could, you know. Perhaps a bit anxious too.”

“You still are, aren’t you?”

“I most definitely am.”

“I’m not.”

“Claude, please.”

“I’ll show you.” He holds his hand tighter. His cheeks heat, just a little, he pictures how they can come back to his room and undress, imagines perfectly how Dimitri would kiss him, and the details of his body, the imperfection on his skin his palms would caress, and how slowly Claude would guide his hand to his ass and join their finger, before entering him, as he so often does alone in his room, waiting for Dimitri to come back from training. “I want you to love me.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“You saw me falling off my wyvern, which was, what, five metres high, wasn’t it? And see, I’m still alive. I think I can handle a couple of those hips’ thrusts.” And Claude hits his hip on Dimitri’s to prove his point, who colours with bright red all over his face. “And as you said, I’m not made of sugar.”

Yet Claude knows he’s won this battle already, since Dimitri will have never mentioned this extract if he wasn’t already willing to try. Claude bites on his cheek, refraining to smile and to let this success get off his head.

Dimitri shyly looks to the side. “…Have you, ever- “

“Of course not.” Claude says on the spot, “You are my first true love.”

“Oh.” He stops. “If it is hardly a surprise, the revelation of it has me quite flustered. Forgive me Claude, but I think I do need a moment to collect myself.”

They halt against one of the Monastery ramparts. Claude is quite proud of his achievement, but his joy is quicker overcome by the delicious promise of spending the night with Dimitri as only lovers usually do. His arms come around his waist, his head rests on his chest. “I love you.” He says, “I want to make love with you. I want you to fill me like no one else ever did before.”

Dimitri sighs, his head rests on his. “How am I supposed to recover from such a violent shock if you keep attacking me from all sides Claude?”

“Oh, poor Dimitri, poor Prince of Faerghus, alone outside the Monastery, slaughtered by words of adoration.” Claude mocks him, he drops a single kiss on his offered lips. “How difficult it must be to be him, and how tragic his death might have been, in the arms of the one he loved, who loved him more than humanly possible, and who chose to promptly follow his fall, for he thought a life without him bear no sense at all.”

And Dimitri smiles despite himself; he’s happy, outside the monastery walls, they have always been. “It has been a while since I have voiced them, I realize, but my own words of adoration, as you spoke, still stand true to what they were before. I do adore you, above all else, and I would endure any torture to spend only a minute of my time in your arms, be it the only minute that matters at all and which I’ll cherish until the next one occurs. At time I am still mesmerized that you, splendid fellow, willingly chose to remain by my side, I who is so imperfect in many aspects you seem so keen to disregard.”

“Lies.” Claude says, his mouth soon finds his. “All lies. What imperfections? Show them to me.”

“Exactly as I said. You’re a fool Claude, but a fool I am deeply attached to.”

“All I see is that you failed once more to show me your flaws.” But Claude knows them already, he has seen the cracks and has loved them just as much as the man who tries to hide them, and who promises to love him, entirely, when they pass the gates and come back to their respective class.

“You sure?” he asks him at night.

And he knows how stupid it sounds, because Dimitri already has three fingers coated with oil; they will take it slow and tonight perhaps Claude won’t feel him inside him, but Goddess even his fingers are big, and three of them will already give him some difficulty, despite all the precaution and practice he has gathered with time and necessity.

Dimitri nods one last time. They stand naked in his bed again, their hardness rub against each other, Claude opens his legs. “I am. But you have to tell me if it’s too much.”

“I will.” They kiss. They are ready. “I promise.”

Their first times aren’t exactly what Claude have imagined them to be; but after all it is more than natural that his expectations, having being bent by fictions, didn’t match the reality of their inexperience and of the limit of human anatomy. Dimitri is nothing but gentle, careful and precautions, but all his efforts cannot make him _less big_ or Claude _less tight_ , and their first, especially, is nothing but painful – and hopefully quite short as well – and it is a detail Claude would like to keep for himself. But they get better, with time and practice. They get so much better, with love and patience, and the moment Claude fully takes him in without feeling a hint of pain is a revelation, almost divine, that it is what it truly feels to _be_ one, to melt with his lover, to be whole again after reuniting with his second half, the one he lost before he was even born. Dimitri holds his thighs and he slides out, then back and he’s fully in again and Goddess, Goddess!

It does feel immensely good.

Claude didn’t know what blissfulness truly feels like before this night. His old foolish self thought he did, assuredly, but he was wrong. Each word demands a new definition. Each concept, each sensation needs to be rethought and rewritten in the light of this maddening pleasure, addictive ache in his guts, which cancels everything he thought he knew about life and Claude sure thought he knew a lot.

He cannot think for long. Dimitri thrusts into him quicker and harder and the bed cracks under his strength but none of them notice. Claude holds on the sheet, he moans obscenities, not caring who might hear and he _can’t think._

After they both came they lay on each other chest, drenched by their lively effort; there’s a kind of comfortable emptiness that accompanies their afterglow, and for Claude who always has his head filled with something, anything, who is afraid of the nothingness that sometimes life provides, it comes with the realisation that this moment changed something in the core of his being, Dimitri did, and that nothing will ever quite be the same ever again.

Dimitri kisses his temple; his skin is salty. “I know it is mostly my fault, but perhaps you could be less vocal next time.” He hushes, embarrassed, “Dedue sleeps just under us.”

And Claude stares at him as if he saw him for the very first time, as if he didn’t know by heart the curve of his chin and nose, as if Dimitri was the oxygen without whom he wouldn’t be able to breathe. The word love, as well, takes a new meaning, and before Claude has said he loved him, mindlessly; he needs to find other words now, perhaps invent some of his own to express fully what he feels towards him.

“No.” He replies. It’s way beyond him. There’s a limit to the barrier he can put around him, and his love is now too strong to be restrained. It shines in his eyes, in his laugh, sweats through his palms and between his thighs. It’s endless like the ocean back home. Claude watches Dimitri; he’s surprised, still recovering from his orgasm to appear unhappy, and he’s so, beautiful, impossibly still, that it takes his breath away.

He wants him again. He wants him all the time.

Dimitri stares back. There’s something urgent, bestial inside his eyes, as if he didn’t like to be resist, has never been used to, that Claude adores.

“Claude, please-“ He leans in for a kiss nonetheless, perhaps finding Claude’s face as irresistible as Claude finds his.

“No.” He repeats, but for a different reason. “That’s not my name.”

Dimitri halts. The realisation of what Claude just confessed takes its time to reach his mind, and an eternity for Claude, who awaits the sanction for this weakness of his heart, his will to share all his secrets even the one he swore never to reveal, to anyone; he awaits the rejection, the disgust, the cold air of the night when Dimitri will throw him out of his room for having lied to him the entire time.

“It is not Claude?” he asks softly, and if he’s angry Claude cannot tell, his voice is as gentle as his touches have been.

“No.” His hands are trembling at his side. Tears mix with pearls of sweat and run from the corner of his eyes. Dimitri notices, sees the fear, primary fear Claude tries to keep at bay all the time, the fear his survival instinct was born to fight; he holds them, holds his shaking hands and kisses the tears away.

“What is it then?”

Claude hiccups, the tears are falling on their own. He takes a deep breath.

“Khalid.”

He waits for a sentence that never seems to come.

“Khalid?” Dimitri repeats, and hearing it for the first time from someone else, someone he adores on top of everything, makes a shiver run down his spine. “It’s a pretty name. I like it.”

And Claude has no other solution, no clever escape route but to unleash all the remaining tension and anxiety he’s been holding on his own for too long; he cries, Dimitri takes him in his arms once more and he never wants them to go. Hot tears fall on Dimitri’s shoulder, as he has sit them both to hold his back, and Claude rested his head against Dimitri’s. He cries, for long minutes, and he realizes a bit too late perhaps, it has been years since he has let go like this.

He never cried like this before. Almyrians don’t cry. They stand in the storm. They stand alive. They stand alone.

But he is not, not anymore.

When he has calmed down Claude rests his forehead on Dimitri’s, he breathes in and out slowly, matching Dimitri’s pace.

“How do you want me to call you?” he whispers.

The question is a beautiful temptation, but also forces Claude to make a most important choice.

Khalid leans against the door, watches them, has been watching the whole time, the whole moon perhaps. Claude never likes him much. Khalid fled. Claude survived.

“Call me Claude still.” It is the most prudent move anyway, if they ever get overheard it could be a real catastrophe and hurry Claude’s departure. “You’ve met Claude, and Claude met you. I don’t want you to call me any other name. It’s Claude you love.”

Would he have loved Khalid as well?

He can’t tell, his old self has vanished the moment Claude won the duel.

With his kisses Claude tastes his own tears. He holds on Dimitri as if he never want to let him go. He loves him, adores him, idolizes no, worships him and his too gentle heart.

“Have me,” he soughs into his ear, “Have me again.”

“You sure?”

He nods. “Please. Take me.” He kisses his jaw, “Have me.” His cheekbone. “Fill me.” The birth of his nose. “Love me.”

Dimitri pushes him back on the bed and takes his lips, hushing him. The tears have long dried.

They only notice the bed has broken during their intercourse when the sun rises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the calm before the storm because from here it's going to get a bit ugly   
> But we'll suffer together !


	18. Pegasus Moon : Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri brings him to the Antechamber the following day before he joins with the rest of the Blue Lions. There’s not really a place he can hide and hear all they say, especially once Lady Rhea arrives, and he watches a bit frustrated as she opens the door that refuses to do the same for him a couple of days ago, and the group disappear in what seems to be an elevator that goes far below. Is it where the Revelation of the Goddess is supposed to happen? To think Dimitri will have the privilege to witness such an event. For once, they’ll have a peaceful mission.
> 
> Or so he thought.
> 
> Claude hears footsteps coming his way. Many of them. He hides against a pillar, he’s supposed to be alone in this alley. Who might it be?
> 
> His eyes widen when he notices their armour.
> 
> There are not knights of Seiros, they are from the Empire!
> 
> And the Flame Emperor is marching with them!
> 
> His blood turns cold in his veins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for : biting kink and my most Explicit porn I ever wrote (it's not too much tho don't get too hyped XD)  
> (I had to be gentle with my babies before, you know)

* * *

#### Pegasus Moon

.

#### Part Two

* * *

Claude realizes there’s something wrong with Dimitri by the last week of the moon.

And the worse is that he denies everything, rejects all of Claude’s worries, and this is what nerves him the most. He is visibly more tensed than he was when they started to, how can he say, date? – oh, this is such a bad word – and if Dimitri reiterates as many time as Claude asks that no, the voices aren’t back, that he feels at peace still as long as Claude remains by his side, there are some signs of tiredness and irritation that he can’t give a possible explanation to, leaving Claude alone with toxic thoughts about why on Saint Seiros could Dimitri be lying to him. Is it a lack of trust? Or because he is the source of such torments? Dimitri says that no, of course, before he’s back at comparing him with the radiant sun, an aster too bright to exist and to give him such attention he does not deserve.

Whatever it is, this thing, this thought is driving him miserable. It shows, he’s more desperate than ever, and he clings on Claude, each time they make love. He clings, and grasps, and holds his body tight, he leaves bruises, scars even, and sometimes, in the heat of the moment he bites.

Claude doesn’t mind. In fact, Claude is quite surprised to see he doesn’t mind at all.

But it’s the genesis of these marks of love, the reason behind their existence that draws his eyebrows together when Dimitri is not looking, which is not this often, and all his conclusions lead him to the most simple answer – because, after all, sometimes things are so simple we forget to look for the obviousness.

And so Claude runs a test, the next day. And Dimitri falls into his trap, blinded by his pain.

Each time they speak about Edelgard his grip becomes desperate.

He must fear what is about to happen at the end of the moon, he still knows so little about what Lady Rhea will ask out of Teach, and so much about the owner of the dagger that rest in their room.

“Wait, Claude.”

He grasps his wrist the morning after, his voice on alert, making Claude halts immediately. “What’s wrong?” He says.

Dimitri runs his finger in his neck; it hurts, not exactly like yesterday – the pleasure is gone – but it is indeed where Dimitri has bit, in the peak of their love, and he has been quite savage about it. There’s even some blood on the pillow they haven’t spotted yet.

“Did I do that to you?”

“Oh no, it was a werewolf.” Claude jokes, tries to ease the general mood, he hates when Dimitri looks so distraught, he’s so keen on self-inflicted sorrow, but this needs to stop. He doesn’t hate it. Quite the opposite.

“I am serious! This looks like…it hurts, a lot, and worse, the wound might get infected.”

“Saliva is the best medicine for that.”

“Someone should see this.”

“What?” Claude gets away from his grip to find his shirt. “No. I’ll just hide it, don’t worry about it.”

Dimitri quickly pulls him back into his lap, he holds him close. “I am so sorry. I am so sorry Claude. I never wanted to hurt you.”

And it is pointless to try to change his mind when he’s like this, Claude knows already, he has very few minutes to lose.

He knocks on Hilda’s door. “Again?” she groans, and when she opens her hair are undone. “You’d better buy me more make up if you’re going to use all of my- Oh, shit Claude, what has he done to you?”

They run some water to clean the dried blood from his skin, but the bruise that appears underneath is already deep blue, almost purple. Claude has to explain, of course, as he takes out his shirt to show her the other marks on his body she’ll need to cover. Hopefully, his neck and collarbones are usually the only places that need her treatment, for the rest is hidden by his uniform.

“This won’t do it Claude.” She says, most seriously. “I can put make up on such a fresh wound, you should get it treated before.”

“And say what? Oh, I’m sorry Manuella, a cat bit me while I was playing with it?”

“Well, considering the side of the mark…Claude, I’m sorry to ask this but is Dimitri partly a lion?”

This is the only thing that make Claude laughs the entire day.

“Of course not. I’m not this crazy.”

“I know. But you must admit that this is not, super healthy, right?” Hilda looks at him, quite sceptical about the turn of their relationship. “You should be more careful, and more mindful of yourself. It’s not because you’re crazy over him that you have to fulfil all his fantasies.”

“Hilda, I would let him walk on me if he asked.” He knows he has lost all her respect by now. “I would let him break all of my bones if it was his kink.”

“Fine. I take it back. You’re crazy.”

They have no other option but to close his jacket, which is somehow as much as a confession of what lies under, but at least by concealing the mark Claude will respect common benevolence, and not impose the sight of Dimitri’s enthusiastic love to the rest of the world.

Claude loves him. And he tries hard to ignore the pain, but at the end of the day the wound reopens, and it bleeds, and Dimitri was right it could get infected if they don’t do anything about it.

It is so much easier not to see a problem, to ignore it, utterly, for the sake of their wellbeing, for Dimitri to keep smiling, keep biting, but perhaps it has indeed been much, perhaps Dimitri has a lion that sleeps inside him, and which wakes up when he fights and more recently, when he’s driven by lust and desire. It’s a shame that if Claude has suffered from both configurations, some wounds are easier to explain, and he can’t seek for Manuella’s help, or any of his friends’, without risking blowing their cover.

He skips his late training. His hand comes on his neck, he leans on the wall of his bed. It hurts.

Claude refuses this truth.

Someone knocks on his door. “May I?”

“Yeah, come in.”

Dimitri walks slowly to his side. He looks like a lost puppy. Claude can’t stare at him in the eyes.

“May I see?”

He had his tunic opened; Dimitri whines himself as he notices other marks, smaller and which absolutely does not hurt, that Claude is proud to have gained, for they are nothing but the symbol of their burning affections. Higher, his hand hides what his eyes refuses to acknowledge, that Dimitri has somehow overstepped his limits, and that Claude might not be able to handle all of him, as he has first thought.

Dimitri passes his palm on the mark. Warmth comes out of it. Then, the pain is gone.

“What have you,” Claude tries to have a look, but the angle makes it almost impossible. He runs his finger on his neck. “You healed me!” He exclaims.

“And I could do the same with the rest.”

“Don’t you dare.” Claude takes his hand away before any more harm is done. “These ones don’t hurt; I see no point in removing them. I like them.”

“They are nothing but bruises. There are pointless.”

“Pointless? There are the only things that reminds me of your presence last night. Let me have them.”

Dimitri’s cheeks are red already, perhaps it explains why he surrenders so easily. “Fine. But anything more serious now, I’ll be able to heal it.”

“Thank you.” Claude can’t believe he’s learn some magic arts on the spot just for him, to heal _him_. “Thank you so much.”

“It is nothing.”

“Of course it’s not.” Claude rests his forehead on his shoulder. It has never felt more comfortable. Here he’s safe. Dimitri will keep him safe. “I don’t mind your bruises. I don’t mind your scratches.” After all, Dimitri has some on his body as well, but Claude somehow always thinks of where his nails pierce the skin when Dimitri lets his instincts act for him. They mark each other. There’s no error possible then, and if someone were to ask who their heart belong to, they would just have to study their body to know.

This trail of thoughts brings Claude to a place he isn’t so comfortable with yet – it’s too soon, and they are too young – so he emerges again, his eyes bright looking for comfort and reassurance in azure ones. He’s rewarded with what he silently demands, Dimitri captures his lips, they close their eyes.

Claude wonders how people will know, in a couple of moons, that Dimitri is his, that he is taken, and that none shall ever put a single finger on him without provoking his wrath. Bruises fade, scars heal.

He wonders how the next generation will know after they die, if love could be printed on their bones. Only stories could tell, but how poorly the transliterate would be, for there is not a word in the world that can begin to explain how deeply Claude loves him.

“Let me have you mark me while we still can.”

There’s something that shines in Dimitri’s eyes, which Claude possesses as well, and even if it’s still early, so early, even if the sun is still up and they haven’t had dinner yet, they know they won’t get out of the room until daybreak. Their thoughts and body align, desire guided by the emergency of their situation. When they kiss it’s harsh, demanding, Claude unleashes his tongue so soon while Dimitri is taking off his uniform. Claude helps him, his hands get inside and he puts the sleeves down; Dimitri nuzzles the place on his neck he has just healed, and even if the mark is gone it is sensible still. He groans when he feels the teeth brushing past his pulse.

“Dimitri…” his lips go to his throat, vibrating with his groans, up his chin and finally closes on Claude’s. They undress into their underpants before laying on Claude’s huge bed. Dimitri, responding to his silent plead, explores Claude’s body with his mouth, he sucks down a path to his throat, his collarbones and then his chest; his mouth works on his right nipple for a while, his tongue playing with it until it gets hard. Under him, Claude has spread his leg for Dimitri to comfortably crawl between them. Already is his head reclining on his pillow, pleasure slowly growing in his groin. He’s nothing but messy pants, sweet moans, nothing but whispering his lover’s name when it doesn’t hurt enough.

“Please, harder.” He can’t take it, he needs more; Dimitri focuses on his other nipple, the cold air meeting the saliva that remains there making it hard again. Dimitri obliges, of course, since it is what the beast inside his guts demands as well. The flat of his tongue draws the shape of his nipple before he takes it in his mouth, sucking not so gently, his teeth ready to nibble. Claude holds his shoulders, one hand rests on blond locks. His hardness rubs on Dimitri’s belly.

The first bite takes him by surprise. He gasps. “Oh fuck, Dimitri!” He closes his eyes, his mouth agape, as Dimitri licks the place he has just bruised. His hands, powerful, come to his hips to stop Claude from bouncing them, eager to be touched and pleasured. His thumbs crush on his hip bones. He travels down below.

Dimitri leaves soft kisses on his abdomen, his tongue enters his bellybutton, he’s so close to his aching groin. “Please, hurry.” Claude begs, they all can see how much he’s leaking already. “I want you inside me.”

His words have quite the opposite effect, as Dimitri urges to his face, his eyes furious for some reason Claude can’t quite comprehend, and he sees now more than ever the transition between these two entities living inside the same body Claude worships, the Prince and the Lion, the man and the beast, who fight to honour Claude as he demands. “Are you proud of your little game? I bet you are.” Dimitri holds his chin tight with a hand, the other on his hip still. “Exciting me with your lewd voice and words until I lose my mind, is it what you want Claude, is it what your body desires?”

Claude stares back, his lips trying in vain to capture his, but Dimitri stands too far to be reached. “I desire you most ardently.” He replies, but this is not enough to calm Dimitri’s furry. “But you’re wrong to think this is nothing but a scheme, a show to arouse you. I too suffer from the effect of your body or your touches on me, and there are more than one way for someone to go mad. What you hear is nothing but the consequences of your doings on me, and if you should be mad at someone, you can only blame yourself and deal with the consequence of the attraction you’ve put me under.”

“Lies.” Dimitri leans in, his mouth kissing him harsh with closed lips. “It can’t be this much.”

“It is as true as I love you. Do you think it’s a lie too? This,” Claude takes his hand away from his chin and puts it on his heart, “doesn’t lie, it’s beating fast, and strong, and only for you. And this,” he resumes his journey, this time lower, until Dimitri’s hand closes on the bulge inside his pants. “Goddess, this never lies as well. I want you so badly.”

“Stop talking. You’re driving me crazy.”

“I want you so badly, Dimitri. I want you-“ he’s silenced quickly with another kiss, while Dimitri pulls his underpants from his legs, leaving him utterly bare. Their tongue dance in their mouth. Claude shivers when eventually Dimitri leaves his chest and meets the cold air, and he searches for something on his night table.

Claude eyes the oil running in these long and thick fingers as if they were one of the secret Relics, with envy and want.

Without warning Dimitri pushes one finger in.

Claude gasps, he bites on his lower lip but both know this is a vain attempt to remain quiet. Claude can be the most silent man on a mission, to survive at times he had to, to escape his attackers, or to find refuge in an occupied place, but there is something Dimitri does to him he can’t keep inside him; when Dimitri touches him it happens, each time, it’s like his body and nerves, spreading the pleasure, are directly connection to his throat without passing by his brain. He moans softly, Dimitri adds another finger, his other hand spreads his leg to get a better access.

“You’re loose.”

He is. After all it’s only logical, they’ve been doing it regularly for two weeks now. Claude had stopped playing with himself.

“And whose fault is that?”

Dimitri puts a third finger, a bit to quickly perhaps, but it is the best way he could have used to silence Claude, or rather shortcut his mind, and let his guts take control. He groans in rhythm with Dimitri’s pace.

He feels behind the harshness Dimitri rarely uses, behind the haste, there’s an incredible lust that is clearly visible in his eyes that Claude has never seen before; and he thinks perhaps Dimitri is finally listening to his inner voices, his hidden fantasies, and perhaps he likes it that way, when he’s in control, when Claude obeys him but also when he doesn’t, which gives him the occasion to correct him.

His tip brushes against his entrance, “Already? I’m not ready.” Oh, yes he is, he’s more than ready, and even if he weren’t, he wants it, he wants him. And as expected Dimitri reads the mood right, and he penetrates him nonetheless, but very carefully, just to judge by himself if Claude’s claims were true.

He pushes in him halfway before stopping. He waits for Claude to moan again. That’s how he knows he’s adjusted.

“Come on here,” Claude leans on his elbows, he cannot sit more with this much of Dimitri inside him. “I barely had the time to touch you.”

He opens his mouth and lets his tongue out, Dimitri swops on him and embraces his will. Claude runs his tongue against his, his arms come on his back, on his shoulder blades, his nails brushing past the skin. Dimitri groans in his mouth, his hips thrust inside him, Claude feels him getting bigger. “You like that?” He taunts him.

The look he gains from his insolence is nothing but dark and cold, frightening, and if Claude didn’t know better he’d fear the man – the beast – in front of him wanted him dead on the spot, and he would have been indeed if a gaze was enough to kill. But this is yet another game they play, and it’s even the same as always, where Claude flirts with the limits Dimitri exposes to him, and breaches in, and see just how deep he lets him go.

He brushes down his sides, he knows they are his weak spot. “Do you like that Dimitri?” No response, Dimitri doesn’t seem in the right mood to play, but Claude can arrange that. “Do you want me to do it again? Do you want me to do it harsher?”

He feels under his fingertips the scars he made last night, small scratches, barely visible to the eye. He runs his hands on his back again, almost hard enough to leave the same traces and under his touch Dimitri arcs his back, there are goose bumps on his skin and the top of his ass.

He withdraws from Claude.

“What are you going?” He whines, devastated by the loss.

“Turn around.”

Oh, he wants it bareback already. “No.” Claude won’t let him win so easily. “I can’t see you like this, or kiss you, or touch you.”

Dimitri crawls on him, he hisses when their hardness press against each other, he crunches Claude under his weight. “Do you want it or not?”

“I do,” Claude kisses him, he sucks on his tongue but Dimitri won’t let him, “want you.” He leans in again, but his lips only meet the cold air. Is it Dimitri’s way of playing with him, or his cruel punishment? “You don’t, perhaps? Am I not of your liking anymore?” He provokes him.

Dimitri holds his wrist above his head, pining it on the pillow. “Then turn around and get on your knees, you…” The rest never follows, Dimitri chases for a long kiss, which Claude chooses to interpret as the impossibility to resist him, and after Dimitri leaves on him the absolute proof of his presence and affection, another hickey well placed just above the hollow of his collarbone, he finds him too irresistible, and follows his instructions without being told twice.

He shudders when Dimitri enters him again. His arms are not quite ready to be driven mad, as he knows Dimitri would in an instant. But surprisingly the sentence never comes. Dimitri pushes his cock inside slowly to the base and retires just as slowly, he does it again, never going faster, or harder, his pace his gentle but hits deep inside of Claude, each time, and he does get only now this is the real punishment, this is the sweat torture he was promised in his murderous glare, this is where his insolence drove him. To the edge of losing his mind.

This is a game of patience, and unfortunately for Claude, in this situation specifically Dimitri clearly has the advantage. His only chance is to hammer on Dimitri’s patience while he’ll pound on his hips, and so Claude does what he knows best, he curls his fists, he bites his lip and bends his head backwards, and he moans, just as Dimitri dives into him, so softly, like a background noise and nothing more.

He internally hopes yet that Dimitri will abandon first. Each time his thrusts are, by accident, more intense than what he intends them to, each time Dimitri loses control he hopes.

“Dimitri,” but he didn’t even hold on his hips tighter, his hands are nothing but the ghost of what they were last night, “Dimitri, please.”

And yet Dimitri continues to love him impossibly slow. “What is it Claude? I’m afraid I didn’t hear you well.”

Another long moan escapes his lips. “Bastard.” He mutters.

“Hm?”

Dimitri thrusts deep inside him, his hands hurt his hipbones. Claude lets out a cry, and shutters again when he feels his breath on his ears. “What did you just say?”

For certain things he is not that deaf it seems. “If you keep it this slow,” Claude still can’t decide what strategy to adopt, and in the state he is in, there’s not a lot of brilliant plan that comes to his mind, “Even your big fat cock won’t be able to satisfy me.”

“Is that so?” Comes the immediate respond, with Dimitri holding his stomach and pulling Claude up against his chest as straightens his back. Claude gasps again, Dimitri’s cock fills him better this way, he closes his eyes.

“You could have warned me.”

“How does it feel? To be played with, toyed with, as if your wishes didn’t matter?”

“It’s horrible.” Claude confesses, he turns his head to Dimitri’s face, his wet lips sucks on his earlobe before Dimitri turns away, refusing any kind of pleasure Claude could get. “A pure torture. Love me properly.”

Dimitri resumes to move his hips up and down, but the angle, more than the fact that he basically holds Claude up, makes the initiative ambitious yet unproductive. The pace is the same as before, Claude moans aren’t loud enough. But he hears, in their breathing that has become irregular, in Dimitri’s short groans, that he won’t be able to keep it slow very long. “Ah, Dimitri!” his mouth agape on his cheek, he uses all his weapons to arouse them, to make him lose his mind, he wants to have that kind of power on him, “Fuck me, please, I beg you, fuck me.”

Oh, how good it is, how intoxicating it is when Dimitri holds him closer, when he bites back a moan, when if whole body shivers with his words alone.

Claude’s mind is foggy, but he still recognizes an opening when he’s offered one. “Please,” he breathes, his eyes are on Dimitri’s lips, “Fuck me properly.” He repeats, and it seems like the three words Dimitri waited for so long; he grasps his chin, turns his head fully to him, Claude still can’t look away from his lips.

“Look at me.”

Claude obliges. He shivers at the sight. Dimitri’s eyes are so intense he could come at the sight alone.

He doesn’t dare to close them when he kisses him with an open mouth; Dimitri doesn’t either.

The game is over. Dimitri pushes him back to the bed and holds his hips, and he pounds him, fucks him to oblivion, until Claude’s moans are loud enough for the whole Monastery to hear. His head in his pillow, Claude’s moans turn into cries and his arms give up, his stomach falls flat on the sheet; above him Dimitri grunts each time he thrusts into him, madly, his fingers leaving bruises. Claude feels him leaning on his back, he drops soft kissing along his spine has he slows down a bit to recover, he kisses him up to the base of his hair before making a turn to his ear. “Give me your mouth.”

Claude already feels boneless, his head miles away from his body, and it’s a miracle he manages to move enough muscles to turn his head, for Dimitri to grasp his hair and forces their lips to meet, violently, desperately too. “I want to kiss you so badly.”

Dimitri retires so they can change their position, to permit them to kiss and be kissed, to gaze at each other’s eyes if they’re bold and brave enough to. Sometimes Claude wonders how Dimitri can hold him as if his legs were made of plums and not of flesh and bones, but it comes rather handy in times of needs; Claude can barely rolls back and face Dimitri, sees the pearls of sweat glittering on his body, his breath halts at the sight. Dimitri takes one of his leg and puts it on the opposite shoulder, his hip turns, but his face remains still. He enters him again.

“Ah, fuck!” Somehow the sight of Dimitri’s face enhances the pleasure he feels, the crimson blush that even reaches his shoulders and chest, his opened mouth he can’t seem to close for how laborious simply breathing is, his eyes partially opened; everything, every detail is breath-taking in a way Claude cannot describe, Dimitri verges on perfection and each time he thrusts on him, he proves Claude wrong, as he thought he couldn’t love him more. “Dimitri this is so good.” He moans, “You feel so good.”

His praise is rewarded by a hot, hungry mouth on his neck that bites. Claude gasps, he’s on cloud nine. “I want to come.” He urges, “Dimitri touch me, I want to come.”

“I’m close as well.” Dimitri groans. He takes Claude’s cock in hand and strokes him, it’s messy, it’s unperfect, it’s as chaotic as Claude’s moans, which have gone out of control, and which Dimitri has stopped caring about. “Claude, I’m so close.”

Dimitri comes first, inside; he moans hoarsely into Claude’s ears until his whole spend is poured, his hips haphazardly thrusting into Claude until he follows, “Ah, fuck yeah!” His whole body contracts until he reaches his climax, harder than the previous ones, his mind turns blank for a second or two, or perhaps a minute because when he comes back to his sense and he distinguishes the trait of Dimitri’s face he has laid next to him. His cheeks are still impossible red, but his eyes have come back to their original blue Claude adores.

“That was so good.” He says, still breathless; he has seen Dimitri wanted to talk first, but this needed to get out of his chest. “That was so fucking good.”

“It was. I have never felt like this.” Dimitri is shy, as usual after sex, and hides his face against Claude’s arm. “I am sorry.”

Claude laughs, “For what? For that?” Sending him to paradise and even beyond?

“For the way I talked to you. It was disrespectful.”

“I asked for it.” Claude tries to reassure him, because he is persuaded their little game is what made this session so special and so wonderful, and he’s so glad he accepts Dimitri’s darkness, if only he could do the same, they could be the happiest to ever be, to ever live. “There’s nothing you need to apologize, I adored everything you did to me.”

Dimitri crawls closer, to the crook of his neck that he kisses softly, his arm rests in Claude’s chest. “Thank you. I still can’t fathom how you can accept me so entirely, even if you know as well as I do how ugly I am on the inside.”

“Ugly? You? What is this nonsense?” Claude takes him in his arms and holds him close to him. “And there’s nothing extraordinary in loving you, you make this so easy for me. You know all my secrets as well, and instead of cutting off my head you make me lose it, in the most wonderful way.” Claude kisses the top of his hair. “There is nothing that I don’t love of you. Your darkness doesn’t scare me.”

“It does. Scares me.” He clarifies.

“Then let me fight it for you.”

They remain quiet for a while, the sun has been down for a couple of minutes only, there’s still time to go to the dining hall to have their dinner but none of them are hungry.

Claude thought Dimitri fell asleep long ago, but somehow he did not; instead, there’s something that occupied his mind, and which he wants to share with Claude.

“What are you going to do, after you come back to Deridue?”

Claude watches the ceiling, his hand caressing Dimitri’s back mindlessly. Hilda has aroused the same question earlier. What is he going to do, what are they going to do?

“I guess I’ll help my old man with the Alliance, until he cannot hold the meetings anymore. That shall happen sooner than I expected.” He thinks aloud. “Then, I’ll take the head, and try to unify the territory. Then…who knows.” He doesn’t want to venture too much in the future, not knowing what are Edelgard’s plans, when she’ll execute them, and if they will succeed. “Maybe I can make peace with Almyra?”

“You’ll have to marry at some point.”

Claude lets out a sigh, do they really need to talk about that after this fantastic intercourse? “I guess I’ll have to, due to all the Crest policy you have here. What about you?”

“After the Coronation I’ll take care of Duscur. I was thinking, perhaps, having a spouse from this area would help, and send a powerful message to the rest of the Kingdom. What do you think?”

“It is true it could be a strong symbol, but it’s a risky bet. You should keep your marital vow for something that can strengthen your position or finance, not the opposite.”

Dimitri holds him closer, his face disappears in his neck.

“Is it…is it troubling you? Marriage?” Dimitri nods against his skin. “Is it because of me?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“The idea of spending my life with someone else at my side makes me miserable.” He muffles against his neck.

This was bound to happen, at some point. Refusing to see the future because they both know how painful it would be won’t make it bearable, on the contrary. “Dimitri; even in the best-case scenario, there is no way we can spend our life as husbands.”

“I know. I know, I’ve always known. But for some reason,” Dimitri searches for his lips, finds them, loves them, “No, because of you, of the feelings you made me nurture at your regards, the idea is more and more insufferable to me with each day that passes. To think I’ll have to love someone else is pure madness.”

“You don’t have to.” Please, never, do love someone else, “Marriage has never been about love. Where have you read the most, passionate, the most dazzling love stories? In history books?” Claude demands, Dimitri shakes his head. “No, it’s all novels, and novels only. Marriage is nothing but an act, political, strategical, or of necessity for the unluckiest ones, but it is rarely an act of love. There can be love, perhaps, and I hope there is at times, but it’s a kind of love you can only develop after living with someone, and for some time. The love we have is not one that can be celebrated by the laws of matrimony; it’s so much more than this.” He holds his hand, Dimitri listens to him so intensely, as if his words were a prayer. “I don’t want to love you like married people do.”

“But your parents-”

“This is different, but my mother was promised to another, and fled to find her true love. Still, it doesn’t solve all out problems. I cannot bear your children, and you mine. We cannot let our name die, so yes, we will have to marry, to keep our lineage alive.”

“My name might live on, but my heart will perish.”

“Dimitri, please, look at me,” Claude cups his cheeks, he can’t stand how sad his voice sounds, when they have been so close to bliss a moment ago, “What is magic, in stories, is that there are an infinity of possibilities, and in love as well. I don’t understand why you cling on something I hold no interest in, when we could be Kings, and write our own story, which would outlive us and tell our love for generations to come. I don’t need to be bind to you by the Goddess to love you. I just need a vow, one I’ll give you, and your words, and your love. History will remember us, as it did for Loog and Kyphon, and they will know despite our scared binds to another soul, that your heart truly was mine, and mine yours.”

This is how they’ll know. This is how everyone will know, every living soul in Fódlan and even beyond, that there was no one who has loved the King of Faerghus as much as Claude von Riegan did in this instant, and for the rest to come.

“I love you.” Dimitri kisses his lips, his mouth close. “I love you so much, Claude, and I’ll write you poems each day that we must be apart, and the world will know by reading them there hasn’t been a man more beautiful and brilliant as yourself, and that none has loved you more than I did, and for the rest of my days.”

Full of their promises, even if they were far from what Claude’s bright future has been before he came in Fódlan, they rest until sleep takes them in a world where they could make everything possible.

The following day Claude wonders why even his classmates can’t look at him in the eyes.

* * *

The end of the moon arrives rather reluctantly; compared to Hilda’s, Claude had the feeling they’ve been planning Lysithea birthday for days. If he had too many cakes, which Leonie forced them to finish until not a single crumb remained, it has been a nice occasion to see some people he usually avoids before the end of the year – he’s been very careful with Cyril, for obvious reason – and Edelgard even blessed her with her presence. In the end, Lysithea never told him what binds them together, except for their hair colour, which is not enough of a reason to be so close, Claude decides, and if he can see why their young mage would be thrilled to befriend the future Empress, he’s still looking for a reason Edelgard would share such enthusiasm.

In any case, the reason of her presence is not of importance. Only the fact matters.

Claude takes the only opportunity he has and follows Edelgard once she leaves the party. “Hey!” he walks smoothy, she halts and waits for him. “It’s nice to see you. We haven’t had the occasion to speak since the mock battle.”

“Oh, really?”

“Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed, you barely engage conversation with anyone in the Golden Deers, except for Lysithea.”

“Have you run after me to ask why this preference?”

“Partly.” He can’t forget the dagger Dimitri keeps in the room they share, he can’t forget the blood she wasted, the lost lives she is responsible for, if his intuition happens to hit truth – and he has never wanted to be more wrong, and for Edelgard to be a normal student, and not their mortal enemy – but deep in his, gentle, heart Claude believes there is a reason behind the desperation, the drastic measures Edelgard is willing to take, and perhaps if they can talk he can avoid her to walk on this bloody path, that has seen enough corpses already. “After what happened to Teach, I searched for information about them, and Lady Rhea.”

This seems to catch her interest immediately, even if she so subtly shows it – Claude knows, her body language isn’t a secret for him, not after all these moons. “Is that so? What kind of conclusion did you draw?”

“Well, I can’t tell anything for sure, but I know people close to her fear her.” He remains elusive, not mentioning Jeralt’s journal - if Dimitri ever finds out Claude has a feeling he could really get mad. “She supposedly used questionable methods to get to her goals that even some knights find repulsive. If we could investigate more on her past, perhaps we can find other scandals, and people would be forced to look at her differently.”

“So you don’t think the Church is the problem.”

“I don’t know.” Claude replies honestly. “All I can say, is that Lady Rhea probably is, but we shouldn’t blame her followers, at least not entirely. They’ve been educated that way, and we, obviously, weren’t.”

“But it is too late to repair years of brainwashing. And as long as she remains in Garreg Mach, the education will remain in her hands.”

“What do you suggest then?” He provokes her. His voice is carefree as he can be, but he knows she prepares for something a bit more spectacular than opening an alternative school for children of the Empire. The real question is, how much is she ready to share with him, how desperate is she to gauge potential allies?

She replies, after some time. “I’ve heard you’ve played with Hubert.”

Claude hits her wall. His stomach twists, but there’s nothing more he can do about it. “Yeah. A real disaster. You were right about his abilities.”

“He told me you weren’t at your best. That you were preoccupied. He can read people well you know, perhaps as well as you do. He always manages, in an instant, to see people’s weakness, and has learn how to take advantage of it.”

If he recalls, the day they played was a couple of day before the ball. It is not difficult to guess what was running in his mind at this moment, what has been invading his thoughts.

He was in love, he still is. It is not something Edelgard wants in an ally, she decided.

“By the way, I may as well tell you before we part. Lysithea reminds me…of my little sisters I’ve lost.” She tells him, to his utter surprise – he has never heard about this story, how many secrets do still need to be revealed to him? – her eyes lost in his ground. “I’ve come to like her in that regard and asked her to join me in the Empire after our year in Garreg Mach is over. She could be changing class, but she wanted to talk about it with you first.”

“Oh, well,” that is another surprise he wasn’t expecting, and honestly, he doesn’t know what to think about it. Nothing good. Nothing good at all. “It’s her choice after all, but she’d rather talked about it with her parents I suppose?” It would be a great loss for the Alliance to lose someone as gifted as Lysithea, but can he truly have a word in this?

“Lady Edelgard?”

Hubert appears out of nowhere and his voice reminds Claude of this nightmare he’s had and arouses other vivid images of Dimitri in this ridiculously low-cut outfit. “I’m coming Hubert. In any cases, thank you for the party. The cakes were…really delicious.”

Before she goes, Edelgard sends a last glance behind her shoulders to the rest of their classmates enjoying themselves, and if he didn’t know her better he’d think she looked melancholic.

“Did you know that Edelgard had sisters?”

Dimitri stares at him dumbfounded.

“They are all dead I’m afraid. But I thought you might want to know, since they were, well, your half-sisters as well.”

“How did you come up with this information? Did she tell you?” Claude nods. He seems to doubt it at first, but it’s only to hide his disappointment. “Why did she never tell me?”

“Maybe she thought it wasn’t necessary. Maybe she barely knew them herself. She didn’t tell me how they died, or when, and how much there were, if it can reassure you.”

Dimitri chuckles, but it’s without amusement. “How can it be remotely reassuring?”

“Well, at least they won’t try to kill you.” Claude tries a joke, a most terrible one in hindsight. But he lost Dimitri’s attention as soon as he broke the news, no, as soon as he pronounced Edelgard’s name.

And he won’t manage to take it back easily, since he definitely ate too many cakes, and his stomach hurts terribly. They’ll sleep on separate bed tonight.

“Can I come with you tomorrow?” He asks before he departs. “And by coming I mean, sneak in, obviously.”

“Of course you do.” Dimitri kisses his forehead, his lips rest there for a moment. “No matter what I say you’ll come anyway.”

Claude smiles, he’s been discovered, there’s nothing he can hide him, nothing he wants to.

“I love you.”

He spoke the word perhaps with a tenderness he never used before, when he should have, and for the first time in a while, Dimitri looks positively flabbergasted by his words. He holds Claude by the waist and gently pushes him against the door, crushing him against the wood.

“I’d give anything to hear those words from you every day of my life.”

He’s so earnest Claude blushes, “Well, I could write them, to you.” Bad idea, they would be discovered immediately, and he can’t even write in Almyrian, that would be even worse. “You said you’ll write me poetry.”

“I did, but I must confess I am a poor writer.”

“Well, you’ll practice and get better. Even Lorenz writes some…acceptable verses.” They are more than that, some even managed to move Claude in a way he thought impossible, but there’s no way he’ll confess.

“If Lorenz can do it then I guess.” He kisses his lips, his mouth remains against Claude when he speaks again, “I guess even I can manage something readable. Perhaps one day,” Claude whines under his mouth, his lips are so warm, “I can write something that will match your perfection. The brightness of your eyes, your cleverness that shines through them, the cheekiness too,” his lips are tender and hot like fire, “The warmth of your voice, your laughs, your smile, the way they put light into my life, put ghost into life.”

Claude’s cheeks are now crimson red, he hides them against Dimitri’s shoulder when they break the kiss. “See? You’re not doing so bad.” He says softly. He holds him there for a while before it’s time to say goodbye.

“You know, we’ve made a promise, with our class.” Dimitri still holds him against his chest, never wanting to let him go. “We promised we’ll all meet here for the Millennium Festival, in five years.”

“That’s a fine idea.” Claude kind of knows where this is going, he can’t stop smiling.

“The Professor would be here, they promised as well.”

“That would be quite a pleasant meeting, I guess.”

“Claude, would you join us, in five years?” Claude beams, of course he would, even before if he’s aske to, “Would you do me this honour?”

“There’s nothing that would please me more than honour you, my love. It’s a promise. We’ll come back here in five years, no matter the hardship life puts in our way.”

“No matter the hardship.” Dimitri repeats, the deal is sealed. “I’ll meet you in five years.”

And it is a small consolation for their soon separation – only a moon remains, Claude tries not to think about it – and he hopes that the future will give them more than this distant meeting, but he’ll cling on everything if it’s to spend more time together.

Dimitri brings him to the Antechamber the following day before he joins with the rest of the Blue Lions. There’s not really a place he can hide and hear all they say, especially once Lady Rhea arrives, and he once again watches a bit frustrated as she opens the door that refuses to do the same for him a couple of days ago, and the group disappear in what seems to be an elevator that goes far below. Is it where the Revelation of the Goddess is supposed to happen? To think Dimitri will have the privilege to witness such an event. For once, they’ll have a peaceful mission.

Or so he thought.

Claude hears footsteps coming his way. Many of them. He hides against a pillar, he’s supposed to be alone in this alley. Who might it be?

His eyes widen when he notices their armour.

There are not knights of Seiros, they are from the Empire!

And the Flame Emperor is marching with them!

His blood turns cold in his veins. He needs to warn them, warn everybody but where to start? If he chases after Lady Rhea and Dimitri they’ll likely never get out this trap before reinforcement arrive, since no one would have warn them; on the other hand can he risk leaving Dimitri in this mess while he finds Seteth and the rest of the knights?

He’s having too many options, and a couple of moons ago he wouldn’t have hesitated so much. But it’s the curse blessed upon all lovers, to think of their significant other first, then comes their own security. For Claude, it comes perhaps a few seconds too late.

Someone holds his shoulder. The hand is cold like death. “Hubert!” he exclaims, but he knows it, the moment their eyes meet, that his sight isn’t one he should rejoice on. He’s about to strike him with his dark magic and at this range, Claude can’t see how he could survive.

“Hubert.” The Flame Emperor calls him, and then everything goes dark.

* * *

Claude almost expected to be awaken with a splash of fresh water on his face, but it’s only a hand on his, Hilda’s to be precise, that slowly takes him out of his sleep. His head hurts like it’s been slammed against a door, the sunlight hurts, but apart from that, he doesn’t think the damages are unmanageable. He can move his four limbs, he can see, he can hear.

She smiles when he opens his eyes. “Hey. Sleeping beauty. You’ve made everyone worried.”

“Hubert attacked me.” He goes straight to the point, but there’s something he must most urgently know. “Tell me what happened down there.”

“He’s fine.”

Claude lets out a sigh of relief.

“I mean, physically speaking, he isn’t suffering of any wounds, quite the opposite.”

“It was Edelgard, wasn’t it?”

She punches his shoulder. “How can you know that?”

“Hey, I’m still in convalescent, you should be kinder to me!”

“Only if you deserve it, you moron.”

She confirms his theory and quickly explains the situation, as some of the Blue Lions have told her. Edelgard attacked Teach and Lady Rhea in the middle of the ceremony and they fought, and eventually they won; but when Dimitri made the mask fall on the ground and revealed the Flame Emperor’s face to the world, he became positively insane.

“Annette told me he crushed a soldier’s skull with just one hand.” Hilda says, her voice low, trembling even, as if she was scared. “And he laughed when the man fell at his feet.”

“Oh.” This is actually pretty bad. He needs to see him. “Where is he?”

“You’re not going anywhere.” She scolds him. “Besides, I’m not sure it’s a good idea right now. You’re too weak.”

“I can still talk.”

“Claude, you’ve been unconscious for about three days, and apart from the moment we found you, and brought you here, he hasn’t paying you any visit.”

Claude looks at her as if she had said she loves doing house chores. This is not possible, this can’t be; he must have come at night, when no one would see him. “You’re lying.”

“I wish I were. But he barely leaves the Cathedral these days. Even the professor cannot reach him. All he does is groan and promise to have Edelgard’s head fall off her shoulders.”

Claude sits up, but promptly lays down; his head hurts more than he has first anticipated.

“Hey, I told you, you won’t move. I’ll ask Manuella to check on you, and we’ll bring you food.”

“Yes mom.” Claude moans in pain, there’s not a single thing he can do, and he knows he needs more rest – but really, Dimitri? Not being there for him? Not worrying? What happened down there, what happened to Dimitri?

They give him water with a straw and bend his head so he can swallow mixed food for a first try. When all is right, Manuella leaves them.

He’s allowed a visit at a time, and most of the Golden Deer come with tears of joy in their eyes, to see him unharmed.

“She saved me.” He says to Lysithea before she leaves. “Hubert was going to kill me, but she told him not to.”

She thanks him with a smile, and a kiss on his cheek.

Lorenz asks to be seen last.

“I am sorry to bother you so quickly after you’ve been brought to us, but there is something I must speak with you urgently.” He whispers, even though they are alone. “I’ve received a letter from my father. He says Imperial troops are moving.”

“To Garreg Mach?” That would be the logical suite of action after all. But so quickly?

“Not only, but to the Alliance’s territories as well.”

“Are you certain about that?” He speaks as quietly. After all, there aren’t a lot of road from the Empire to Garreg Mach, and one passes by Gronder Field, and by Gloucester’s territory.

“Perhaps my father will have no other option but to let them pass, our troops aren’t ready for conflict. As we speak, our relatives are holding a war council.”

“War, you said.”

The unspeakable word has been told.

“Indeed, it looks like it. I am as devastated as you. I hope we’ll avoid the catastrophe the Kingdom is rushing into and engage negotiations, if things turn out to be this bad.”

Claude feels shiver of cold transfixing his body. He can see it so perfectly, how Dimitri will never wield, one centimetre, he’ll fight, he’ll go to war, for her head, for the dead.

“I must speak with Dimitri.” He needs to see him. “Maybe it is not too late.”

“Then I beg you goodnight, and good luck.” Lorenz stands up from the bed. “I’ve heard from Sylvain that Prince Dimitri is purely unapproachable.”

The more he hears news from outside the more his heart aches and turns into stone when he realizes Hilda has probably been right. Some of the Blue Lion has come to his side, Petra and Dorothea as well, and Dimitri didn’t. And the coup de grace comes from no one but Felix who leans on the wall in front of Claude, his arms crossed in front of his chest, and says very simple words, a simple truth.

“I’ve warned you.”

His voice is icy, sharp like a diamond. But instead of coming out immediately after Felix remains against the wall, and if Claude had been in better condition he would have played a bit with him, trying to make him confess what his hidden motives are, or perhaps he would have had a guess. But not tonight.

“What did you come here for? Rejoice as you’d see my pitiful face, crying for my crazy lover to miss me as I was at the verge of death?”

“Hmf.” Felix looks to the window. He doesn’t reply right away. “I’ll tell him you feel better. Maybe he’ll hear that. He keeps talking about how you two will take Edelgard’s head. I guess you should pay him a visit if you don’t want to be part of his madness.”

He leaves then, after words that were probably supposed to be enigmatic but talked by none but Felix, they just transpired his worries for his future King, and the trust he puts in Claude to bring him back to what he used to be. He’ll have to see Dimitri in the light of the day, when his head won’t hurt so much, and when he’ll have something consistent in his stomach – and perhaps a good bath, he desperately needs one.

The night is cold, way colder than in the dorms, and Claude realizes it’s only because he sleeps alone. He’s been used to Dimitri’s arms around his waist for so long, a luxury he thought was acquired at least for another moon, when things could very well be different. What run in his mind? Why didn’t he come? Did he forget about him entirely, or is the rage too strong to leave place to other noble sentiment as love?

He who supposedly loved him so entirely. He who Claude opened his heart to. Has he been too eager to find someone that loved him the way he dreamed to be?

Dimitri has seemed so easy to trust. Why? Why was it happening this way?

As if his head didn’t hurt enough.

The morning air gives him goose bumps, he rolls on his side and pulls on the sheets but it never comes. Instead, there’s a body laying on top of them and Claude has to bite on his cheek twice but yes, it is him, it is Dimitri, who finally – _finally_ – came. He sleeps, his arm around his waist as usual, as if they were in their room – and perhaps he has avoided the crowd, the unwanted attention not to let his love transpire. Claude will have to ask for explanation later, because Dimitri most definitely need to rest, judging by the dark circles under his eyes.

“Hey,” Claude can’t help but kiss him, it has been so long, he must miss it too. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.” He whispers.

Dimitri doesn’t move a single muscle. He sleeps deeply, and Claude is glad, so glad for that. He turns around and sets his back against his chest, feels his heartbeat through his tunic, he holds his hand and then he realizes it.

Dimitri put his gantlets back on.

They are going to war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :')
> 
> Yeah me too im cryin


	19. To War

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Dimitri,” his lips get hushed with a lazy kiss, “Dimitri. It’s time.”
> 
> And the words hold different meaning for them, because if for Claude they announce their heart-breaking and fateful separation, for Dimitri it sounds like the end of this agonizing wait, and almost his liberation.
> 
> It’s time to kill Edelgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning : French Poetry. There's a song you can listen [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ne9FRA2p2JI).  
> Warning 2 : The author note at the end will be quite long.  
> Warning 3 : This chapter is the darkest and the more violent of the fic, and not physically speaking. I'm sure you have guessed by now, but as much as I love the boys, their love is in fact not healthy, at least at this moment it cannot be, as they haven't healed from their own wound yet.  
> Warning 4 : I'm gonna cry before pushing the publish button.

* * *

Rien n'est jamais acquis à l'homme, ni sa force, ni sa faiblesse ni son cœur. Et quand il croit ouvrir ses bras son ombre est celle d'une croix. Et quand il croit serrer son bonheur il le broie. Sa vie est un étrange et douloureux divorce.

Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux.

* * *

# To war

**.**

Claude’s prolonged stay at the infirmary had been an unnegotiable decision the whole teachers oblige him to, due to Hubert’s dark arts they knew nothing about and wanted to be sure were not a danger for him still, and it’s all the more frustrated that Claude witnesses History writing itself in front of him, but without his enthusiastic participation. He will have to wait the second week of the Lone moon to be discharged and his visits have been restricted until then.

Nonetheless, he doesn’t know how, Dimitri always managed to come to him at night.

Be it by want or necessity, or both of them combined, Claude woke up to a weight on his chest on most nights, blond locks tickling his chin; Dimitri would sometimes still be awake and they would talk, a little, and they would kiss fair more.

But if Dimitri’s lips have lost nothing of their ardour, something in his voice and eyes have changed, so totally; hence they don’t even have the same colour – where has the Almyrian’s sky on Blue Sea Moon gone? – leaving Claude with the ugly feeling his absence at his side made him lose sight of him and let resurface his demons, which Dimitri had been too tired to fight on his own.

“I’ll have her head.” He keeps saying. He doesn’t even say his words of love anymore. “ _We’ll_ have her head.”

And Claude is angry at Edelgard, as much for the chaos she gave birth to, which unsettled Fódlan as well as Dimitri’s sanity, than for the premonition he’s got each time Dimitri says those lines, and what his guts scream to him when they part.

He’s lost. He’s lost him, to a mad run; Dimitri rushes into a fatal trap and he’s still holding Claude’s hand, begging for him to fall with him, but Claude doesn’t want to.

At least when he’s discharged, he’ll have the opportunity to figure something out, and to save Dimitri once again from his own demons. But this time, he fears, the demon he’s fighting against isn’t a ghost, and the ghosts ask the same thing Dimitri’s heart demands. He can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him, to sleep alone with the knowledge he’d guessed her true intention since they did find the dagger with Teach, when he couldn’t even share his findings with Claude, for they were too horrible and painful to pass his lips. He wonders if he slept with his dagger under his pillow. He wonders if Dimitri even sleeps at all.

Hilda comes to him at the end of the first week. “Claude. I’m going home.”

He’s glad. He’ll miss her, but he’s glad; it’s one person he needs not to worry about, at least for now. Holst will take good care of her.

“Is that,” she runs her hand on his bed where Dimitri has slept a couple of minute ago. There’s still the ghost of his body printed on it. “Him?”

“He comes here to rest. I don’t think he sleeps in his room.”

“Sylvain told me he barely speaks to anyone as well. Even to the professor.”

They both remain silent, their eyes on the place Dimitri has once lain.

“Be careful Claude, okay?” Hilda kisses his forehead. “In battle, as in your love life. I won’t be here to have your back anymore.”

“We’ll see each other soon.” Claude kisses her cheek. “Come to Derdriu with your brother for the next council.”

She offers him her best smile before she goes. “I’ll try.”

She will.

The day he’s discharged it is none but Lorenz that waits for him. “I shall not be the face you wished to see first and foremost, but I require your immediate attention.” He says sorely. “We need to talk.”

Garreg Mach has been in a state of stupor since the attack, and with no news from the Empire its whole inhabitants walk in fear of the news that is doomed to reach their ears, for it does seem highly improbable that Edelgard will stop her fight this early in battle. It is all the more unhealthy than most of the Black Eagles are still in the Monastery, but it does have the merit of giving them more information about what’s currently happening in the Empire.

“Since Edelgard became Emperor, half the Ministers has already joined her rank, Caspar’s and Linhardt’s fathers included. With the Military Minister and the Prime Minister at her side, she’ll quickly gain more followers and convince her people. I am mostly concerned about our friend Ferdinand.” Lorenz tells him, they’re in his room drinking tea, he has no idea of where Dimitri is and the thought bugs him, “He’s heard from his father the other day, he has been banished from the Empire. This is the kind of punishment she reserves for her distractor – another example, Hubert’s father has been killed, and Hubert replaced him.”

Things escaladed quickly while he was convalescent. “This is clearly a message for those who are still hesitant. Join me, or be killed.” Claude holds his chin; they are too young to deal with these kinds of troubles, why can’t they go back to enjoying the ball? Oh, he regrets the time he was only angry at Sylvain’s stupid bet. “What does Ferdinand think about it?”

“He’s tormented, as you can guess. His relationship with Edelgard as always been one of admiration, hidden by his own pride and will to outclass her. His obsession forced him to be better and forged him into the man he is today, one who does not condone her actions, or at least her methods, like most of us here.”

“But if he chooses to defend the Church, he’ll be deprived of his title and lands as well; he won’t be a noble in name.”

“But he’ll still be at heart.”

“Which is perhaps the most important thing; what do you think, Lorenz? What would you do if you were in his shoes, and I were to drive the Alliance in this most violent direction?”

Lorenz takes no time to respond. “I’ll fight you, of course. Therefore, I wanted to have this interview with you. If Ferdinand were to betray the Empire, could we accommodate him, until this whole chaos is over?”

Claude accepts just as quickly. They will need all the forces they can get against the Empire.

“And what about your father? What does he think about this?”

Lorenz looks elsewhere. “Nothing that would satisfy you I’m afraid.”

If the war council held during his convalescence proved something it’s how much the Alliance’s leaders are torn over the Empire and its’ need of extension, and Count Gloucester has shown himself a great opponent to the Riegan’s reign once more.

Despite Lorenz’s talent for tea and its infusion, their beverage holds no savour in these times of great despair and uncertainty. If what the Blue Lions think of the matter makes no mystery for him – they told him when they visited him at the infirmary – Claude worries about the other Black Eagles and their future. What about Caspar, and Linhardt? And Dorothea and Bernadetta? What about Petra? Will she have the opportunity to return to Brigid?

What has gone through Edelgard’s head all this year?

Claude remembers her words, _‘Lysithea reminds me…of my sisters I’ve lost.’_ And the way she glanced back at their last birthday party, at what she was willingly going to sacrifice for her plan.

If she had shared them, her thoughts, if Claude has been cleverer and has managed to befriend her instead of spending his time running after Dimitri without knowing, how much things would have been different?

When he gains back his room it’s already occupied, and not by the person he sought for since he got out in fresh air; but their presence is far from being a surprise, at least not after the kind of thoughts Claude dwells on.

Lysithea sits on his bed.

Edelgard asked her to come with her. They both think about it when their eye lock, and none of them speak for a long minute. Claude is still weak and tired, and Lysithea young but clever; she knows her words will be important and have an impact in both their future, and she can’t let her usual enthusiasm run her temper this time. Times of war ask for calmness and firmness.

Eventually Claude sits next to her. “So. What are you going to do?”

“How have you been?” She asks instead. A question for a question, Claude is used to this.

“Better.” Still impossibly hurt, some wounds will take more time to heal, but these aren’t visible, and she doesn’t need to know. “Lysithea, you came here for a reason, and we both are running out of time.”

“Your safety isn’t a waste of my time.” She replies, her eyebrows frowned, “And I’ll do what I wish to do with the few that I’m allowed to enjoy.”

“What is it that binds you to her?” What is it that Claude missed, what is this mystery he couldn’t reach?

“That, I cannot tell you. It’s a promise even her terrible rebellion won’t be able to cancel.” This only makes Claude want to uncover this truth even more. “But let’s say we shared the same hardship that link people above the bond of friendship or blood.”

“Pain brought you together.” He says.

“You can say that.” She looks away, to the mess on his floor. “And this is why I can understand her sorrow, and why she would want to fight the Church.”

And it’s the way she says those words, as if there was a ‘but’ she hasn’t spoken yet, that arises hope in his chest. She understands, but she does not consent, nor approve.

“She… _killed_ people! Jeralt, our classmates, she turned them into _Beasts_!” Her fists curl on his blanket, her eyes are reddened with rage. “Fighting with the enemy’s weapons will only turn her into a monster herself. I cannot tolerate this violent purge, or accept the road she wants me to follow. I don’t have time for this! So, I won’t, Claude, I won’t take her offered hand, I’ll stick with you until the end.”

Claude holds her in his arms and the mage prodigy cries, too young, too carefree to suffer from such atrocities of the heart. To lose her beloved soul sister to her own demons and madness, Claude can only guess how awful it must be for her, to have severed the bond herself, to have let go of her hand.

“What is going to happen to us?” She sobs against his chest.

Claude has no idea of what the future holds. “You shouldn’t worry too much. Edelgard esteems you, even if the worst-case scenario were to occur, she’ll be clement with you.”

“But she won’t save you twice, Claude.”

“I know.” He knows this too well. “I know.”

She begs him farewell. Claude remains at the door for a while, watching her back, and staring at the silent and empty corridor of their dorm. Where has everyone go? Where is Sylvain, Felix, where is Dimitri? He closes the door; it resonates in his empty room.

He waits until it’s past midnight to get out again. He walks to Dimitri’s room, the light is out. He knocks, no reply. He gets inside.

His room is empty.

Claude walks to his bed and sits there, hoping it will make his lover magically appear – it’s stupid, so stupid but he’s so in love and so worried that somehow he’s turned stupider than before – and when Dimitri indeed doesn’t join him, he thinks of Hilda and her words, didn’t she say he barely leaves the Cathedral these days?

Claude walks there despite the tiredness, the sleepiness his body is full of, for it asks for nothing but the comfort of his lover’s arms, which are the only things it needs to full restore and gain as much strength as Claude needs for the rest of the moon and beyond. He takes the stair one by one. Dimitri stands in the middle of the nave. They are alone; apart from the unburning candles the scene is oddly similar to the night of the ball, his stomach pleasantly aches at the memories.

After all this time and even now that he knows Dimitri so well, his feet bring him to him as if Dimitri put a spell on him, like honey does for a careless fly. He puts his head against his back and hugs him from behind. “It feels so good to finally have you against my chest.” He speaks softly.

Dimitri holds the hand that rests on his breastbone. “These last few days have been nothing but agony to me. To think I could only be granted to right to see you with unwanted ears and eyes always on us was a pure torture for my heart.”

“For me, they were too, terrible, frustrating.” He holds him closer. “What are you still doing here? I’ve been waiting for you.”

“I’m sorry, I’ve lost track of time.”

“Dimitri, it’s dark outside.” And it has been for hours.

“It is always dark for me.” He turns around and brings Claude’s hand to his cheek. “The sun will only rise when I’ll hold Edelgard’s headless body in my arms.”

Claude doesn’t know what to say. Perhaps he could joke he liked it better when Claude was his sun and joy, his only reason of living, but he has the awful feeling these moments are gone, gone with Dimitri’s clearness of mind.

Yet Dimitri kisses the palm of his hand as if it were his most precious treasure. “I have been thinking a lot about what we could do.”

“We?”

“After I take the throne, you’ll have to convince your grandfather to march with me towards Embarr. I am enraged but not bold; I have been waiting for this moment too long to risk it by being unprepared, and I know our forces will never match the Empire’s troops.”

“Perhaps we can talk about that later, when it is fair into dawn and my mind is rested enough to reflect on your hasty strategy.”

“Hasty?” His tone is hurt, he huffs, his arms fall on his side, “Am I dreaming, or are you already abandoning me?”

Claude remembers too late he should never harm a wounded animal. “Dimitri, your words make no sense. There is no one I will-“

“You’ve seen what she is capable of, she killed so many of us, Jeralt, she killed my whole friends and family, she killed _her own mother_! She’s a monster!”

“What has gotten you?” Claude grasps his arm, holds it tightly, “I don’t recognize you. Of course she’s our enemy, but it seems your ire makes you blind to the rest of the world, and worse, of me. I am not abandoning you, I never did, and I won’t, ever. What will it take for you to be certain of such an evidence? Are my words not enough? You already have my heart.”

“I want your army.” Dimitri says flatly.

Claude drops his arm in front of such pragmatism; these are not the words of a lover, but of a King marching to war. And here Claude is not the man he loves and loves him back, no, Claude is his ally, Claude is everything he wanted to be for Dimitri, no, for the heir of the thrones, the first day he entered Garreg Mach. “Is it all then? I’m just another leader for you, a pawn, merely, to serve your goals?” Claude is used to use people in that extend, but to be used in return, and by none but the master of his heart, is perhaps the greatest wound he could bear, and he does not extremely well. It is painful enough to make his knees go weak, and before his legs won’t have enough strength left to hold him to his bed Claude turns around, showing his back to Dimitri, where he would have rather had him stabbed him than dismissing their feelings, for the sake of victory – no, for the sake of revenge.

“Claude,” He’s soon chased after, of course, and Claude hates how much it’s a relief. “Excuse my lack of sensibility. I do love you, immensely so, and perhaps I was too quick to think that since our mind and body have merged into one, that our goals would follow as well. We need to be quick, and I won’t manage anything without you.”

“And my army.” Claude adds bitterly. “Which I have not, I’ll let you know.”

“Not yet indeed.”

“So, what’s the plan? Killing old Riegan so we can walk hand in hand to Embarr and beheaded Edelgard?” He summarises. The painting is ugly, but so is their reality, so is war, so is death. Dimitri seems startled by the animosity Claude put in his words more than their meaning, but eventually he nods, and Claude wants to puke. “And then what? Both Alliance and Kingdom have a giant feast where they both vent our fantastic leadership and kiss out boots, and everyone that you aren’t positively mad at lives, happily ever after?”

“You’re being a bit optimistic I’m afraid, but I like the general idea.”

Claude looks away, he’s mad himself, so mad. “You’re dreaming.”

“Dreams need to be big if you want to see them from afar.” Dimitri holds him by the arm and draws him closer, kissing his lips or tries to, as his mouth lands on Claude’s cheek who has turned his head at the last moment. “Claude.”

“What? You don’t expect me to be mad at you, after all you did?” All the things he didn’t. Dimitri can’t see them, he can’t see his default, can’t see anything but his will of revenge, and her head on a spike in front of Embarr’s gate. “You’re the one who abandoned me. I spent more than a week on a hospital bed, and you weren’t there.”

“What are you talking about? I came to you.”

“So briefly, and so little; I’ve missed you so much that I was afraid to forget the shape of your lips, the warmth of your hands, the curve of the small of your back. And each of your visits never give me the satisfaction and clench my thirst for your love. Tell me,” he pauses, his stare finds Dimitri, he eyes him severely. “Didn’t you even _miss_ _me_?”

“I did. I do, still.” Dimitri runs a finger, covered by his gantlet, gently on his cheek. “But there are more important things that needs my immediate and absolute attention. I cannot quiver from my goals now, I’ve never been so close to achieve them. The voices are asking for her head and I might have the perfect opportunity to content them and make them hush forever.”

“Is it what I am now? A simple affair, a mere distraction, that takes your attention away from more important matters?”

“What is this whole scene about Claude?” Dimitri takes his face into the palm of his hands and lifts it up. “I thought you’ll follow me on this, help me achieve my unattainable dream as I would do with yours. When it’s all over we can be one again. You’re my whole world.”

“Obviously I’m not.” Where has his promise and unconditional love has gone? Is this what Claude sacrificed his safety for? He would be miles away, a frontier away from this whole mess right now, if it hadn’t been for them, and the certainly he had that Dimitri will never love something more than his being - and perhaps he is still right about that, but Claude is young and naïve, and forgets that love and hate are evil twins; both demand the same dedication and care, and Dimitri must loathe Edelgard more than he loves him, simply. “To think I stayed for that.” He talks with spite, his words aiming to hurt, and deadly. He needs him as wounded as Dimitri made him.

“’That’ you said? ‘ _That’?!”_ Dimitri is furious, he grasps him by the collar of his night shirt and shoves him against the altar. “How dare you doubt my adoration for you!?”

Claude doesn’t say it, doesn’t say why he’s so mad, he doesn’t understand it well himself when it is all clear it’s because Edelgard obsesses Dimitri and his heart wants, needs, _demands_ that Claude remains his only obsession. He wants to control his heart and mind and be their only master, but this is an ugly part of his self that he is yet to get accustomed to.

“What will it take of you to believe me? Words, I guess. Promises, you’re so found of them.”

No, Claude is not; only his, the ones pronounced by the only man he puts his trust into, whose hands could love him so well, but lead him to his demise equally.

He takes his hand, and Dimitri kneels.

“When it’s all over, when Alliance and Kingdom will have triumphed of Edelgard’s furry together, we’ll come back here to Garreg Mach. And in front of the Goddess, as a retribution for our glory, I will ask Her to make you mine, and me yours. We will be Kings together.”

Claude laughs bitterly, looking elsewhere. “What are you even talking about?” This is insane, this whole talk makes no sense.

“They’ll have no choice but to answer my plead. I’ll be their Savour King, and you their King’s savour. I’ll marry you.”

“Dimitri,” he chuckles, turns his head away, truly, he’s lost it. “You know this cannot be.”

“And why not? Why not Claude, we’ll rewrite History. The Empire is more than a thousand-year-old and we’re about to destroy it, so hell with the tradition, to hell the crest supremacy, I don’t care if my blood disappears in nothingness.”

Claude is dizzy by the absurdity and the splendour of such a dream. It’s dazzling, just as much as Dimitri is, and to some extent he doesn’t sound so crazy anymore. “You can’t be serious. Marrying me? And in front of the Goddess?”

“A poor price to pay for having saved Her from Her most terrible opponent, don’t you think? To turn a blank eye on our love, to allow such an abnormality, the loss of two major crests.” Dimitri stands up again, he takes Claude by the waist and surges him to his chest. “We’re going to save Fódlan. They won’t refuse us anything. They can’t. We’ll make History, and children will read about us, and about our love, brighter and stronger than the darkness surrounding us, which permitted us to prevail on our enemy. I’ll marry you; this is decided. Here in this Cathedral, after I sever Edelgard’s head from her shoulders, I’ll marry you.”

And as to set the deal and imprinted his promise into Claude’s heart Dimitri sealed their lips with passion; his body presses him against the altar behind them and Claude closes his eyes. He lets go, of his frustration, he forgets and forgives why he was so mad to begin with, for Dimitri and his kisses are the only truth of this world, and his only object of veneration. After all, why not? To hell with tradition! They love each other, who will refuse them the right to be happy after they have saved so many? This is the winner’s triumph, their own victory over the world that has been so cruel on them, so unfair.

They will be Kings.

Claude kisses back eagerly. His arms behind Dimitri’s head, he feels a hand on his back and traveling down his ass. Dimitri fondles them, he presses into him.

“Is it your armour or have you actually missed me?” Claude provokes him. Dimitri smiles as a respond, his mouth on a journey to kiss every bit of skin it can get – it starts with Claude’s lips, which he is so weak for, then the side of his nose, his cheekbone, his temple; it goes down his ear and right under, on his neck, Dimitri licks where Claude’s heart beats and sucks on the skin. “Oh, Goddess. I’ve missed you so much.”

Maybe they should stop and come back to their room. Maybe they should, but Dimitri has another idea in mind, as his hand breaches through Claude’s night pants and makes them fall, effortlessly, on the holy ground.

“Dimitri!” Claude whispers, suddenly shy with their new configuration – shy to have followed where Dimitri’s action brings them to.

“I want Her to know, already, how much I adore you.” Dimitri takes his chin into his grip and claims his lips, the grip hurts, Claude doesn’t notice. “I want the Goddess to know the depth of my love for you, and I want you to remember it too, so you’ll never doubt me, ever again.”

Dimitri shoves his stomach against the altar with one hand easily, taking Claude’s breath out of his chest. He bends him over, a hand on his skull, the other taking care of his lower attire, which he disposes off and ends on the floor along with Claude’s.

Claude is breathless. The position Dimitri forces him in is far from being comfortable, but he can’t help feeling aroused by the direction Dimitri takes them into.

He shivers when a finger enters him, mostly because it’s cold; Dimitri let his gantlets on.

“So, you couldn’t wait, hn?” He tries to turn his head but Dimitri glues it to the altar. “So horny you couldn’t even undress neither of us properly. Who’s the naughty boy now?”

“And you doubted that your absence had any effect on me.” Dimitri lets go of his head and sucks on his shoulder, he bites there just like Claude wants it. “I’ve missed you immensely. I barely slept. Everything feels dead when you’re not around.” He adds another finger, it slides in smoothly. He runs his lips against his neck until they reach his ear. “Who’s the naughty boy, you asked? Tell me, did you have an intercourse with someone else that I’ll have to slaughter later, or were you so impatient you prepared yourself before searching for me?”

“I’ll leave this to your interpretation.” Dimitri bites him harsh to punish him from his boldness, electing a moan from Claude’s throat. “But it seems I’ve missed you more than you missed me.”

“Liar.”

“You call me that a lot, don’t you? Are you sure you trust me, or love me at all?”

“Stop this game, Claude. Stop it right now.” Dimitri retires his fingers and spits on his hands. “I am not in the right mood for your play, and you might regret the moment the situation escapes from your grip, and you lose the last string of control you have on me.”

It’s a warning Claude nearly wants to ignore, but then Dimitri’s tip brushes against his entrance. “You’re going in raw?”

“Yes.” He pushes in, Claude bites on his lower lip not to moan, “You deserve it.”

Does he, really? Dimitri stops half way on his first thrust and grunts already, it has been a long time, for men so young and so in love it has been an eternity since they allowed their body to express their desire, and to think someone might stumble on them in the middle of this most forbidden act, in the holiest place in the Monastery, to think someone might hear them is nothing but excitement for Claude, enough to make him hard without Dimitri touching him. His temple rests on the altar when Dimitri uses both his hands to hold on Claude’s hips and thrusts in again, and again, until his cock finally disappears inside Claude.

“Fuck.” Claude moans, and never before he would have thought the acoustic of the Cathedral would be an important variable to his wellbeing – it resonates like the nuns’ choral, and Claude smiles at the irony, that such holy walls will have to endure something so obscene as his lewd voice while Dimitri fucks him. He moans again, he loves how it spread in the whole Cathedral, filling the void.

This way the Goddess, if She truly exists, cannot be unaware of how much they love each other.

And despite the threat Dimitri is still gentle in his way he moves in him, carefully, he can feel it in the grip of his hands on his hips, as Dimitri is trying to have a bit of control on his own needs. Once he’s all in again he leans on Claude’s back, he bites his shirt to rise it up and reveal some of Claude’s skin. He kisses his spine, Claude shivers again.

“I love you.” Dimitri says against his back. He kisses his way up, his lips on the fabric of his shirt when it gets in the way, he kisses his neck and Claude turns his head, searching for his lips. “I love you.” He repeats. Claude has his tongue out and it runs on Dimitri’s, until Dimitri withdraws again and thrusts in again.

“Ah!” he cries, his head falls on the altar again, he loves him too, he loves him so much when Dimitri does it again, and again and they find back their rhythm right where they left it before Edelgard ruined it all, before the ceremony, before they were parted by Fate once more and fought back to be reunited again. Dimitri’s cock feels so good inside him. It’s the only thing he wants to shout to the world right now.

“Turn around.” Dimitri nibbles his ear shell, “I want to look at your face.”

Claude rolls on his back and raises his legs; Dimitri takes one thigh against his stomach to adjust himself, the other falls carelessly on his shoulder. He’s back in immediately and bites on his lower lip, his eyes closed. Dimitri has wanted to see Claude’s face but he’s also showing his to Claude and perhaps he has not meant it that way, because he’s wrecked, so wrecked himself, his cheeks are burning crimson already, his ears in the same state, his sweating under his uniform he didn’t even care to remove – he even kept his cape, Claude actually likes the sight, it’s, let’s say, chivalrous that way – which makes Claude smirks from the corner of his lips.

“You’re such a mess.” Dimitri looks down to him and oh, by Saint Seiros, his eyes, they speak more than a thousand of his words how much he wants him. “You’re so lewd.”

Dimitri holds him by the waist and from then, they don’t speak. Dimitri pounds him, harsh, fast, restlessly, his frenetic rhythm ends the last of Claude’s coherent thoughts and brings him to state of blissfulness where only pleasure is alive and anything that is Dimitri’s cock doesn’t matter. Even his hands he doesn’t feel them, his moans he cannot ear, it’s just between his cock and him, his most perfect, long and thick cock moving inside him, that breaks him, mind and body, that alienates his fears and anxiety and gives him all he’s ever wanted: a place to be, to fit, a place where he is loved and never he shall be replaced.

When Dimitri gets closer to his limits his thrusts become more hectic. He takes a hold on the altar, he speaks between heavy pants, “Claude.” He cannot say much more but they both know he meant he’s close. “Claude!”

They both know it means I love you.

Yet Dimitri finds himself to be quite adventurous as he, unexpectedly, demonstrates his inhuman strength once more and breaks the altar Claude lays on with his hand alone. The wood crumbles under his palm and the rest follows, including them, including Claude who’s back hit the floor, and who’s tongue is bitten by his own teeth.

A drop of blood runs from the corner of his lips. “You’re okay?” Dimitri takes his head in his palms, a hand caressing his hair. Claude nods.

“What are you doing? Move.” he replies, “Fuck me. Come inside me.”

And it doesn’t take long for his wish to be granted. Dimitri licks his blood from his cheek and lips before tasting it inside Claude’s mouth and he groans when he comes, and Claude feels him filling his insides. His feet that have circled Dimitri’s waist bring him closer. Dimitri thrusts into him until his orgasm dies, his mouth is all red, Claude still bleeds.

He crawls on him. “Stick it out.” He demands, his voice husky. Claude gives him his tongue, and to his disappointment it’s not for another messy kiss, but to heal his stupid wound. “What about your back?”

Claude moves his hips, Dimitri’s cock sliding out and inside him. “I want to come.” He groans, he takes Dimitri’s cheek, forces their eyes to meet. “Make me come.”

They don’t have time for Dimitri to remove his armour, so when Dimitri seizes him Claude gasps at the cold and hardest of it, but he comes all the more quickly, and quite abundantly, on his night shirt.

None of them has the presence of mind to move from the mess they have caused, and they lay on the altar’s debris for a while, Claude catching his breath and Dimitri playing with his hair, his lips always close to his face, dropping butterfly kisses here and there.

At some point the gentle touches stop. Claude turns his eyes to him, Dimitri grasps at his shirt and buries his face against his chest.

“I’ve missed you, so much.” It’s not until he speaks that Claude realizes he’s crying. “I’ve missed you Claude. I’m so tired. I can’t sleep. They hurled at me. They want her head. I cannot take it anymore. I’m tired of thinking about her all the time, of how I want her _dead_.”

“It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m here now.” Claude caresses his hair, his other hand resting on his back. “You’ll have it. Her head. We’ll take it together.”

He lets the afterglow talks for him.

Dimitri holds him bridal style back to their room. They get bare. Dimitri runs his hand on Claude’s back, looking for splinters. The few he finds, he kisses them away, and his hands heal even the tiniest cut Claude would have never been aware of if not of Dimitri’s cares. While he does, heal him, Dimitri kisses him tenderly. His shoulder, his neck, his cheek, everything but his lips, the top of his spine, his sides; his lips have so many ways to express their love, and those moments of respite hit Claude’s heart harsher than any words Dimitri could speak.

Claude thought a moment he had lost him to madness; but he has returned. Dimitri returned to him.

He’s won. Love won.

Dimitri lies down once he’s sure Claude’s back is immaculate of any wound. Claude doesn’t follow him. He sits still, his breath short. He wants him.

He straddles his hips. “What is it, love?” Dimitri asks so candidly, and they haven’t really discuss on pet names yet, but Claude likes this one very much, love how it sounds when it’s out of Dimitri’s mouth, and directed to him. He wants him.

“Do you really want to sleep?”

He needs him.

Dimitri’s own breath halts, and it’s the only reaction Claude will get. His hand finds Dimitri’s flat cock and stills, he says nothing; instead, Dimitri takes his hand and applies more pressure, and his cock hardens under their touch. Claude’s whole body trembles.

They make love again.

* * *

Sa vie, elle ressemble à ces soldats sans armes, qu'on avait habillés pour un autre destin. À quoi peut leur servir de se lever matin. Eux qu'on retrouve au soir désœuvrés incertains; dites ces mots ma vie, et retenez vos larmes.

Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux.

* * *

The destruction of the altar had the merit to force the Monastery to talk about something else than Edelgard’s treason for an entire day, at least, but soon whispers travel at the speed of light directly into Claude’s ears, telling him the nuns and priests had declared it a bad omen, a warning from the Goddess, a prediction of ruin and despair cast upon the Church and the inhabitants of Garreg Mach.

Claude would have gladly laughed if the Empire declaration of war hadn’t occurred the day after.

“They’ll be there in two weeks, can you imagine?” Even Claude can’t talk about anything else. Is he ready? Of course not. Will he ever be? Probably not.

Dimitri is the only one who looks forward to their reunion with the third house leader.

They lie in bed, naked, their eyes to the ceiling. “You said Count Gloucester didn’t let an army passing their bridge?” Claude nods, Lorenz himself was surprised while reading his father’s letter but can they trust him? Wouldn’t he lie to Lorenz if he knew they were friends? “This means they took the road passing the Kingdom. It’s longer, but at least they can manoeuvre easier.”

“Perhaps the occidental Church helped them.” Claude reflects on everything that has happened to them since the beginning of the year. “If we think about it, troubles started with Lord Lonato.”

“It started even before.” Dimitri corrects him.

“My point is, the Empire probably has been working on this invasion for moons, even years.” Edelgard had been too young to plan all this, not at the beginning at least, which means she has accomplices of course, and that perhaps they are using her position to fight this war. “It won’t be easy to counter an attack they’ve been preparing for so long within two weeks.”

“Do you supposed we’re going to lose this battle?”

“Most likely.” Claude confesses, he hates the idea, but really, what can the Knights of Seiros do in front of such an army? Best case scenario would involve a siege, but as last moon’s mission proved, they have men even inside the Monastery walls. “Do you see any logical solution? A Divine intervention perhaps, from Teach or even better, from the Goddess herself?”

“You know I don’t wait for anything regarding the Goddess.” Dimitri rolls on his side, his finger caresses Claude’s stomach lazily, as if the discussion didn’t bring him any worries – Claude wonders how. “The Professor will lead us to victory.”

“Are you this blind by their powers? Is that why you’re so relaxed, when we’re obviously living our last moment of peace?”

“You have seen them fight a couple of time, you’ve seen them come back from the world of Darkness; nothing can stop them.” Dimitri caresses his torso, his hand cups a breast; his mouth soon follows and takes a nipple inside. How does he want them to prepare a solid military strategy with both their house combined if he keeps doing this to him?

“Dimitri,” Claude moans, more by annoyance than need, at least not so soon. “I can’t think properly when you touch me like this.”

Dimitri leans to him, he kisses his lips. “Then don’t.”

“Hey, I very much want to find a way to keep both of us alive you know. You sound unshakable, and I’d like to have your composure, but I’m afraid I do fear death a little bit more than you do. And I’ll let you know, I quite find it healthy.”

“To be scared of dying?”

“Precisely.” Claude drops a kiss on his lips. “It’s one of the few qualities you seem to lack.”

“I just want to kill Edelgard.” He mutters again, his head turning to the side, not facing Claude – hiding his dark side. “There rest is irrelevant. I don’t care about what the Empire wants. I don’t care about what happens to me after that.”

“But after you’d have taken care of your personal vendetta I guess the Kingdom will still need a King, and you’ll need to defend them against the remaining forces that she left behind. And what about your life, love, what about me?” Claude caresses his face, the circles under his eyes are back and he knows, he feels it, that Dimitri doesn’t find sleep as well as he used to, that despite everything he gives him, Claude isn’t enough to heal the invisible wounds anymore.

Dimitri eyes him, eventually, but drops his head after they make eye contact. “While we’re at war there would barely be any time for us to meet, or leave our respective territory. How can you ask me to look forward to a time like this, when I’ll be away from you and your touch? Your hand, your smile,” he leans on Claude’s shoulder, rests his forehead there, “I’ll bring them with me, I’ll print them in my memory so they will never leave me, but they won’t be enough to replace you. I don’t think I realize yet how much I am going to miss you, and how much it will destroy me.”

“Hush, my love,” Claude caresses his hair, ignoring the sadness that Dimitri’s words bring with them, as he speaks nothing but another horrible truth. “Love is supposed to make us stronger.”

“I’ve known you for an entire year now; do you remember, the first time we met? It was during that time of the year.” They both smile at the memory, remembering the first victim of Dimitri’s strength, poor door handle. “Since then I haven’t yet seen the world without you by my side. It’s like you became my second lung. Breathing without you will still be manageable, but barely sufficient to live. You made me discovered a force I didn’t know I possess, but only you hold the keys to unlock this unused potential, leaving me with me no choice but to observe the good man I used to be when we were standing together, a man I won’t be able to be anymore.”

“Don’t be silly.” They both are, Claude doesn’t know yet how he’ll manage to wake up without Dimitri’s curling against his back, without his warmth he’ll always feel cold. “You were already extraordinary without me.”

“Perhaps; but I didn’t know, not until you found me.” Dimitri joins their lips for a longing kiss, his hand goes behind his skull. “I didn’t know, and I’m scared I’ll forget, if you don’t remind me, each day, that I’m more than the monster that dwells inside, more than just a broken boy too shattered by the horrors he had witnessed, slave of the people I couldn’t protect, and which still suffers every seconds Edelgard lives.”

And somehow it breaks his heart that Dimitri is blinded by his own self-hatred to see what an formidable man he turned into, and Claude cannot do much to change his mind so deeply in such a short time, but he’ll try, always. His tongue runs on Dimitri’s his lower lip, Dimitri replies by opening his mouth. They’re both late for their morning reunion. Classes have stopped with the upcoming war.

“May I have you?” Dimitri asks out of the blue.

Claude then does a sound between a gasp and a laugh, surprised, and trying to hide it. “Last night was not enough?”

“Last night was last night.” He kisses his bare shoulder, runs his lips against a hickey he’s the maker of. “I thought you were quite fond of it.”

“I do. I adore you.” Claude is never tired of making love with him, he could do that for hours and days if they didn’t need to eat, or sleep, or have responsibilities. “But as you might have noticed the reason we’re still in bed when it’s past breakfast time is because you loved me so well I can’t walk to the door properly.”

“You told me not to heal you.” Dimitri says, frowning. He doesn’t get it.

“And I’m persistent. Don’t take the pain away.”

“But why?” Dimitri holds the wrist where he left a bruise as well, and if he looks closely there are other love marks, here and there, even on the visible part of his neck, that Dimitri inflicted to him, and that Claude wants to keep.

It’s not something Claude can explain easily. “I like to remember you were, here, you know.” He tries, because it’s simply too hard to admit pain is better than nothing, pain is not emptiness, and once Dimitri will be gone he’ll miss the pain as much as he missed the pleasure it gave him, when Dimitri was there.

“More than having me again?”

Claude finds himself shy and wonders why. Dimitri basically asked him to marry him a couple of days ago and he’s still shy around him. “It’s something like bittersweet, you know? I told you, already, I want your bruises on me.” He wants to be owned.

“I don’t think you ever told me that.”

“Oh,” but Claude is quite certain of this fact. “Perhaps it was more like ‘ _I want your bruises on me.’_ ” He repeats in Almyrian.

Dimitri stares at him in awe. His eyes get darker. Claude isn’t going to escape this.

“It’s beautiful. Can you say that again?”

Claude laughs, “Of course not. Cyril might come in for cleaning. I can’t risk it.”

Dimitri takes his braid in his hand and leans in to kiss it. “Okay. Keep your mysteries to yourself Claude, show off as much as you can.” He kisses his temple. His mouth is hot like the sun. Claude never wants him to stop. “You don’t impress me, not anymore.”

“I don’t, really?” And Claude is sly and witty, and he loves Dimitri too much not to feel bold. He half closes his lids, sits in front of Dimitri; his hand goes between his leg. “Are you sure?” Dimitri is already half hard, Claude doesn’t know how. They barely slept last night. They’ll sleep later, when they will have time to miss the other’s embrace.

Time is a luxury they don’t have.

Time flees from Claude’s hand, from everyone’s, and like Dimitri’s sanity it shatters and reduces like grains of sand on a dune, gone with the wind. Each time they touch it seems a bit of Dimitri crumbles under his hands. It comes to a point where he doesn’t sleep, at all, when night comes.

It comes to the point of nightmares.

And one night Claude is awakened suddenly not by Dimitri’s cries, which he hasn’t caught on time, but by his hands around his throat, seizing it, chocking him.

“I’ll have your head!!” He yells, his hold tightens, “I’ll, have, your head! Monster!”

Claude can’t speak, he can’t breathe, and for the first time he searches for a dagger under his pillow and it’s gone.

Still, it seems the movement woke Dimitri from his trance and his eyes focalized on Claude, on his reddened eyes, his opened mouth, and his hands fatally circling his neck. He gasps and jumps from the bed as if it were made of fire. His back hits his door.

“What…have I…” His voice is as strangled as Claude’s might be, if he ever had any word to share with the rest of the world. Panic overwhelms him. Dimitri didn’t choke him long enough for his brain to lack oxygen but as a counter part he remembers every second of it, of utter fear, of dying by his lover’s hands. And the worse is that he can’t blame him, he doesn’t want to, and he forgives, immediately, because what frightens him the most is that he could have ended it, him, Claude could have cut his jugular if his dagger were to be under his pillow as if usually does. He’d done it, and he’ll do it again, he’ll choose his life over Dimitri’s.

“It’s fine.” His voice is hoarse. “I’m fine.” Claude kneels before standing up to reach Dimitri, his head spins, it’s not fine, but Dimitri doesn’t need to hear it, anything but that. “Dimitri, please, come back, it’s fine.” They are both monsters, it should be fine.

“No. It’s not.” Dimitri looks so small, like a scared cat, he looks like one of those ghosts who are turning him crazy. His words are barely whispers. “You can’t stay here. I’ll hurt you.”

The Empire marches on Garreg Mach. They’ll be here in three days.

They only have three days left.

“I love you.” Claude begs, he rushes to his side but Dimitri pushes him away. “Dimitri, look at me I’m fine, I love you.”

“Perhaps you shouldn’t. There’s nothing I can give you but violence and death.”

“Dimitri, don’t listen to them, don’t listen to the voices, listen to me instead.” He takes his face in his hands, this time Dimitri seems too weak to resist him. “It is fine. You did not hurt me. You stopped in time.” The dagger wasn’t there, he’s fine, they both are.

“I stopped. I shouldn’t have started. I’ve hurt you.”

“Barely.”

“I hurt you still.” His lower lip is trembling. “To think I was mortified, a couple of weeks ago, to hold your hand with my gantlets. Get out of here before I hurt you more.” He begs.

“You won’t. I won’t.”

“Claude, get, out.” He mutters.

“I’ll be more devastated if you send me back to my room, alone. Please.” Claude holds him close to his chest, making sure of where Dimitri’s hands rest still. He speaks with a clear voice, but his arms are shaking, he remembers what happened to the alter, to Dimitri’s lances, to his enemies, to the innocent door handle he mindlessly broke on a bright afternoon the day they met, and wondered how long his throat would have last. It’s a thought that doesn’t leave him, and never will.

Claude puts Dimitri back to bed and watches him sleep until the sun rises. He never closes his eyes. He holds Dimitri’s hand in his, and his dagger in the other hand.

He’d rather be tired than dead.

They part with the morning sun, exhausted, and never come back together in the same room to sleep.

They do sleep together, still, but not at night; in daylight somehow they both find solace, against a tree next to the marketplace, and Dimitri has his head on his lap and Claude an opened book he puts aside, and they sleep, together.

And then the Empire attacks.

Claude is awakened by the change of light, a shadow passes in front of his face. He opens his eyes slowly. He quite expected it to be Teach, but it’s Dedue that has been sent to look for his Prince. He looks severe, more than usual, and this only is a clue of which kind of news he came here to deliver.

“I am here to bring His Highness back to the Monastery.” He says, always so serious. “The Empire’s army will be here in an hour; we need to prepare.”

Yet he does not move forward, he waits; Dimitri is indeed calm and looks serene, and it’s a sight none of them have been able to witness for a long time. It’s the calm before the storm, a couple of minutes of respite before they march to war.

“I’ve never thanked you.” Claude looks up, tearing his eyes from Dimitri’s face reluctantly. “For what you did for His Highness, and still does.”

Claude caresses Dimitri’s hair mindlessly. He doesn’t know what Dedue means by this. If only they knew, all of them, how close Claude had been to kill him, twice.

“You made him happy.”

His hand stills in blond locks.

“Will you protect him in my place?” he asks Dedue. He knows them, knows how much Dimitri loves him and needs him at his side, and he will even more once they won’t be able to be together. “You never leave his side. You’ll be his sword against her, and his shield against himself.”

“I am afraid I don’t understand what you meant by this last statement.”

“He’s going mad.” Claude speaks quietly, Dimitri starts to stir, their voices must have alarmed him. “He only has Edelgard’s demise in mind, he doesn’t care about what happens to him afterward. Someone need to stop him if he’s being too reckless and puts his life in danger in order to achieve this must crazy dream of his.”

“I’ll follow His Highness wherever he goes, be it back to the Kingdom or on this most dangerous road. Only him commands me, Claude. I’m a weapon, I’m a shield, nothing more.” Dimitri groans, he opens one eye after the other. They fall on Claude first. He smiles. He raises his torso to face him properly.

“Dimitri,” his lips get hushed with a lazy kiss, “Dimitri. It’s time.”

And the words hold different meaning for them, because if for Claude they announce their heart-breaking and fateful separation, for Dimitri it sounds like the end of this agonizing wait, and almost his liberation.

It’s time to kill Edelgard.

“Let’s go Dedue.” He gets on his feet, rearranges his hair, and walks back to the Monastery without sending Claude a last gaze. Claude is frozen in place by the cruelty of his behaviour, and cannot divert his stare from Dimitri’s back, and his cape, and when they disappear from his sight, eventually, Claude realizes he’s been holding his breath all long, and when he does the cold air hurts in his lungs.

It’s cold. It hurts. It’s all over, just like that, Claude will never feel the warmth of his hand again. He hadn’t known these would be their last moment, he hadn’t paid enough attention and already he feels he’s forgetting everything about him, about them. And it hurts so much that Dimitri didn’t even think of it, that it was their last moments, or perhaps he did and didn’t care, because Claude can wait, and Edelgard cannot.

He’s alone in the court just in front of the Monastery. A couple of knights are rushing back inside, which he should probably do as well, and runs back to Hanneman to wait for his orders. He gets on his feet and walks, fast, to his classroom. Hilda is safe back at home. Dimitri, well, wherever he goes, Claude can’t follow him anymore.

He’s alone.

The storm is coming.

* * *

Mon bel amour mon cher amour ma déchirure, je te porte dans moi comme un oiseau blessé, et ceux-là sans savoir nous regardent passer, répétant après moi les mots que j'ai tressés, et qui pour tes grands yeux tout aussitôt moururent.

Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux.

* * *

Claude is far from being surprised when the Empire’s army reaches their door, he had foreseen they won’t have the advantage after all; still, knowing how frightening the situation would be doesn’t prevent him from feeling fear deep in his bones, as much as he has felt Dimitri’s love only a few days ago.

Hopefully he had had time to come back to his room to pack some of his things that he hadn’t sent back to Derdriu yet. It is weird to see it tidy. There is no book on the floor, or on his bed – which is made, for once. On his desk Claude takes the only object he left behind from his chessboard, and puts it on his pocket, hoping it will be of use before the end of battle. His silver bow in hand, he marches to the reception hall. He stumbles on Lorenz and Leonie, they walk together in silence.

To none surprise Teach and their class are attached to the front door’s defence with Lady Rhea. Claude finds Alois as they explain their strategy. “Alois, what about the secret doors?” Claude knows them like the back of his hand, and some might be unknown to the Knights; but if Edelgard has any knowledge of their whereabout it could lead them to a most difficult position. He got his way, and they got assigned to their protection.

As they stand their position, the whole Golden Deer class hears the first racket of battle, “I am honoured to have been your class leader. Honoured to have been your friend.” He turns around to watch each one of them in the eyes. “But if you find yourself in a great danger, please, I beg you, save your life, flee, and go back to your home. We will be optimistic to think this madness will end today, and the Alliance will need all our young strengths to forge another path to a brighter future. Therefore, I forbid you to die today.” The first knight falls to the ground, and soldiers wearing Empire’s armours surge on them. “This is the only order I’ll give you today, my friends. Charge!”

His first arrow neutralizes the first soldier, and Lorenz along with Leonie charge when an entire battalion runs on them. Lysithea takes care of much of the horsed faction, outdoing herself, Ignaz is discreet and moves like a shadow to take their enemy by surprise while Raphael gets the attention on him and his brutal strength. They aren’t doing so bad, actually, but it fatally means more forces are being spread elsewhere, and Claude cannot concentrate well when his thoughts go this way. Dimitri, how is Dimitri doing? Has he found Edelgard yet? Is he safe, is he letting his demon fight alongside with him? Has he surrendered to madness? Claude hopes Teach is taking care of him, always, if only someone could watch after Dimitri the way Claude would die to.

They fight for hours, or at least it seems. Time spends fighting always feel longer, especially when it’s away from the one you love.

And then, the horn rings out. But it’s not one of the Monastery.

It’s Edelgard asking for reinforcement.

And up on the hill where the Monastery has been built, Claude as the rest of them cannot do anything but witness, powerless, an army twice as big as their own marching on Garreg Mach, led by none but Lord Arundel.

Claude lowers his bow. There is nothing they can do now. It’s all over, Edelgard won.

“You all! Retreat!” They have time to escape to their respective territory, Claude had secured an escape route with horses waiting for all of them. If they go now, they’ll all be safe.

“Claude? You’re not coming with us?” Marianne asks. They all halt, indeed, Claude isn’t following.

“More than anyone here, you need to escape. You’re our future.” Leonie trots to him. “Come,” she offers her hand, “Let’s bring you safely to Derdriu.”

“It’s okay Leonie, let him.”

Lysithea joins them on Lorenz’s horse. He’s glad she’s giving him some time, he’ll take every second he can. He needs to find Dimitri.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back, I won’t die here either. Follow Lorenz until I join you.”

“We have a meeting point a couple of kilometres from here. We’ll meet with some of the Alliance army leaded by none but Judith of house Daphnel.” Lorenz informs them. “We’ll be safe as long as we reach this point.”

“Since we are not Edelgard’s priority it is most likely she’ll let you escape unharmed. Now, go.” Claude reaffirms, he’s already facing the other side.

“Good luck Claude, with whatever you’re trying to accomplish.” Lorenz salutes him with a nod, and trots away with the rest of them – Raphael runs behind with Ignaz on his shoulders, securing their escape with his sight and bow. Claude doesn’t watch them go.

He runs to the stable, takes Jasmine out and puts a small axe on his belt. They fly in the air; there he’ll have a clear view of the battlefield, and to where Jasmine’s wings shall take him.

There is utter chaos, everywhere. Bodies are pilled on top of each other’s in front of the biggest gates, Imperial forces and Knights alike, but so far Claude hasn’t spotted any of their classmates in the victims. Claude flies until he sees Teach and Rhea together, facing the biggest wave of enemies on their own – well, not really, because Rhea sends Teach away and she walks to meet her attackers, alone.

Claude thinks for a second that she’s mad, completely insane. That even if she surely holds a great power to have kept this place for so long, she cannot beat so many of them on her own.

And the next moment it’s his own sanity he questions, as Lady Rhea transforms, perhaps like Mikhail did in the past, she transforms into a Beast but not really; her skin is white, immaculate, her eyes are green, and more than a Beast, she looks like a Dragon, a creature he’s learned and read when he was a child, in books of Legends in Almyra.

Rhea is a dragon. In front of her soldiers halt, and cry, they shout and run backward, run for their life. Some don’t, mostly because they are petrified by fear, and her tail takes their lives, or her claws, or her maw.

Teach is leading the evacuation not far from there, and it looks like they could use some help. Tearing his eyes of this unique spectacle, Claude lands them a hand. He slices a couple of enemies easily, but soon more are coming and from every side. Only his back is safe, but for how long? He needs to stand his ground, there are still so many people that need to evacuate, so many innocent students that have nothing to do with this meaningless fight, and will die for a cause they know nothing about if Claude were to fail, and fall as well.

He’s giving reinforcement though, and the most unexpected, one he isn’t sure will actually help him fight at all.

Dimitri joins his side, immaculate as ever.

They fight along without a word, each one defending their side. The evacuation is almost done.

“So,” Claude’s heart beats so fast, from panic, adrenaline, and just from seeing Dimitri, when he thought he could have never seen him again. “Have you found her?”

“I did.” And the spite he put in his voice is enough of a proof that Edelgard still lives. “She’s close.”

Which alone explains his presence here, probably. It is not because in his mad run he had spotted Claude’s yellow cape, which is hard to miss; he missed her, she still breathes and Dimitri cannot accept this.

“Are our friends all right?” Another soldier rushes on him. Claude waits for the impact and dodges at the last moment, taking advantage of the loss of balance the absence of a physical resistance produces to hit the man’s helmet with his axe. “Annette, Mercedes?”

“Annette is leading the evacuation to Fearghus with her father.” Dimitri isn’t so kind, his lance and hands are already full of blood, there’s even some on his face. He has taken down perhaps twice as many solders as Claude did, mercilessly, he’s walking on a pile of corpses as well. “Mercedes is healing our troops.” He speaks, acts like a King at war. It is what he is. “Ingrid is taking back Ashe who’s been wounded severely, but his life is not in danger. I have no idea of where Sylvain and Felix are, but they surely are together.”

Claude remembers their romantic promise to die together on the battlefield; how much do they intend to die here, today, if they fight alongside then, never getting out of the other’s sight? This is some heavy devotion, Claude will give them that. He watches Dimitri fight then, watches him butcher his opponents, crunching their skull with the hand caresses his back so many times, the one that has been around his throat. It cracks, the noise is awful. It makes him want to puke. Claude looks away when Dimitri throws the dead body to the ground carelessly.

This is the boar Felix knows.

And a couple of minutes later it is like Claude has never been there. Dimitri is looking for something in the crowd, probably Edelgard and her guards, his uncle; there is nothing but blood and madness in his eyes, and when he looks towards Claude it’s only to check if the object of his ire isn’t escaping the other way. He doesn’t see him, not anymore.

“And where’s Dedue?” He asks when Dimitri has taken yet another soldier Claude was about to knock out. He lays dead on the ground, Dimitri’s lance pierced his chest. But Dimitri doesn’t hear him. He walks to take back his lance without looking at him. He doesn’t hear him anymore, and Claude has never felt so desperate.

“I love you.” He loves him, still, despite this, he loves him and entirely, his heart belongs to him, because he knows how good of a man he can be. “I’ll always love you.” He says, as if they were the last words he wanted Dimitri to hear.

Dimitri halts then. Perhaps he hasn’t been deaf to his voice as he thought he was. He sees him then. He takes his hands and kisses him, without warning, harsh and demanding and Claude melts against him. He doesn’t mind the blood his lips bring with them. He doesn’t mind anything, as long as it brings Dimitri back to him.

“I have, there’s something I want you to have.” He says, once Dimitri finds it acceptable to let go of his lips, and they’re in a middle of their most dangerous battle and yet Claude feels like time has stopped just for them, just to give them the blessed opportunity to stare at the other for a couple of seconds longer, to make sure they remember their face, the colour of their eyes. Dimitri stares, too, he’s back, he got him back for a moment. “Please, accept th-“

The ground shakes under their feet, making Claude lose his balance before he could finish this sentence, or give Dimitri the object he wanted him to keep so close to his heart. Dimitri grasps his arm before he has a chance to fall though, but the sight they are given is so terrifying his legs are about to give up, Dimitri’s presence changing nothing of the nightmare Edelgard plunged them in. Enormous beasts are running to them, or more precisely to Rhea, to the white dragon, and they surge on her throat, unable her limbs and wings. She’s cornered, hindered, the beasts are biting on her scale, they are going to devour her.

That’s when Teach rushes to her aid. With the Sword of the Creator they take down a couple of Beast on their own. Claude watches in awe; Dimitri has been right on that point; they fight as if they were directly sent from Heaven.

But they are not invincible.

“Professor! Behind you!” Dimitri shouts, but they stand too far. There’s a dark mage Claude has never seen before who prepares a magic spell. Byleth blocks it with her relic sword, but alas the blast pushes her backwards to a chasm they cannot escape. The void calls them, they fall, and in an instant they are gone.

Rhea groans, her pain evident in her cries, and she fights more desperately to punish those who’ve hurt her protégé. Claude is frozen in space, once more. They have lost Teach. Rhea is going to be eaten alive by beasts. Dimitri still holds his hand. They need to leave.

He whistles Jasmine back. Hopefully she can take both of them.

“Hey, Dimitri, have I ever told you I’ve always dreamed on flying on a wyvern with you?” he tries to sound carefree to make their escape plausible, he can’t feel his hands, his feet, he’s scared, so scared and they need to leave, immediately.

Dimitri doesn’t follow. His feet are glued to the ground, his eyes far ahead and when Claude follows them he sees as well, horrified, Lord Arundel on his horse and Edelgard, her shoulder wounded, walking by his side.

Dimitri can’t see anything else. He can’t hear anything else.

“Claude. This is our chance.” What chance? They are surrounded by the Imperial army from all sides! The beasts will swop on them in a minute, they need to get out of here! Dimitri puts his lance on his shoulder. “If I run fast enough, I can win enough kinetic energy to throw it in her chest. It won’t be as satisfying as beheaded her but still, she’ll be dead. It’s all that matters.”

“Dimitri.” Claude’s voice tremble. He can’t be serious. “Please. Come with me.”

“She’s just right there. I can’t miss her.” He says without turning back. He drops his hand.

“And what will you do after you kill her? The Imperial forces will slaughter you.” He hates sounding so weak, he would have liked to shout, to hurl at him, to bring him back to his senses, but he has no strength left in him; the sight of his gradual fall into madness pains him just as strongly as he loves him, and pain, just like hate and love, is a powerful feeling, one that could alienate every muscles of your body simply by existing.

“Perhaps they will.” Is all he is answered. Perhaps. As if Dimitri didn’t care at all about the consequences.

“You don’t care about what happens to you, do you? You don’t care about your life at all.” He breathes.

The silent stretches time to a little eternity, before Dimitri speaks again. “My life belongs to the dead.” And Claude knew it already. He’s been a fool to think his presence alone made the ghost go away. Dimitri has been broken for years. He’s been internalizing his vengeance for this long, long before they met. He’s been a fool to think a couple of moons of youth love could erase it all.

They were supposed to be invisible together. Nothing was supposed to resist them. They were supposed to be Kings together.

He curls his right fist at his side.

“Dimitri, my love,” he speaks, softly, it’s a miracle Dimitri stops. “Please. Kiss me one last time before you go.”

How can he not answer his plead? Claude knows there’s still a trace of Dimitri, of the man who loves him, under this thick coat of hate and violence, he knows he’s still in there, and he bites back his tears when yes, of course, Dimitri turns around and lowers his lance, and their eyes lock, and-

Claude punches him. Both their bones crack at the impact, fingers and cheekbones, and Raphael told him well, so well, because Dimitri falls on the ground and never gets up. He’s unconscious.

Only then Claude bursts into tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” Jasmine lands a couple of metre away, perfect timing. “I’m so sorry Dimitri, I love you, always.”

Dimitri doesn’t even groan, he might have been wounded and exhausted already, and Claude’s punch finishes him on the spot. Who could have attacked him, would dared to touch him?! Claude will make them pay, every cut, every bruise, he’ll make them pay.

It turns out Dimitri is heavy and heavier when he’s not conscious, and Claude being weaken himself, dragging him to Jasmine turns out to be an impossible task. How is he going to get out of this tough one, hn? He can’t leave Dimitri behind. He can’t, he won’t.

He thinks of Felix and Sylvain, so, this is what it feels to know he’s about to die with someone he loves. It doesn’t sound so scary anymore.

“Your Highness!”

Sent by the Goddess, most probably, Dedue appears out of nowhere and gives him assistance.

“Where have you been?!” Claude is tired, emotionally exhausted but relieved when Dedue manages to hold Dimitri on his back. They walk to Jasmine.

“His Highness asked me to lead the evacuation of the orphanage. I came back here as soon as the children were safe.”

This is something Dimitri would do, of course, even at time like this, he’s still in there, Claude repeats in his head, he’s still in there.

“And what happened to him?” Dedue eyes his broken hand. “You punched him.”

“I saved him!” Claude says between sobs. Tears run on his cheek. He has never felt so vulnerable. “He was running to his own death blinded by his rage, I had to do something. And I don’t care what you think of the matter, that you’ll have probably run along with him and die with him I don’t care!” Claude shouts, out of himself, the excruciating pain needs to get out of his chest. “I love him. I love too much to watch him die. I want him alive. I need him alive.”

“I understand.” Is all Dedue replies. They’ve reached Jasmine. The beasts are coming. “Unfortunately I won’t be able to go with you.”

“I’ll come back for you.” Claude says.

“No, there’s no need. I’ll find a way. Take care of His Highness. He wouldn’t have wanted you to risk your life so recklessly.”

“Dedue…thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you. You saved his life. Only you could have done that.”

Jasmine takes off and Claude sees the mess from above. This is a real catastrophe. Some of the basement are being destroyed by the Imperial army. There are beasts inside the Monastery, eating knights alive, they even reached the Cathedral and make the roof crumble. Claude’s tears have dried in front of such horror. Stupor gains his guts. How many have died today? How many, and for what? What can possibly drive Edelgard to this road, which wherever she’ll go, will colour her boots with crimson red?

Claude flies north. Soon he spots two ginger heads looking ahead, probably waiting for Dedue and Dimitri to come back, hoping. Annette sees him first, she waves, and screams when she sees who’s with him, and in which state.

Felix and Mercedes run to him when he lands. “What have you done to him?!” Felix yells. He helps him get Dimitri down with delicacy though, which Claude is kind of surprised but also glad about.

“Oh no, don’t.” He stops Mercedes before she can heal her Prince. “If you put him back on his feet he’ll rush back again.”

“That…idiot!” Felix pesters, he sees the bruise on his cheek and the state of Claude’s hand, he doesn’t ask what happened again.

“Oh, Sylvain is coming back.” Annette tells them. He has been looking for remaining Blue Lions, and Annette warned him that found Dimitri with a spell she sent in the air. Claude is glad when he sees Dedue coming back with him. With Ingrid and Ashe already ahead, the whole class is now complete.

Well, not entirely.

Teach is gone.

Mercedes insists to heal his hand, but Claude refuses, “You’re exhausted, I can see it.” He says, “Besides, Dimitri will need you when he wakes up.”

“Man, you must have punched him pretty bad.” Sylvain helps them get Dimitri on his horse. Claude holds his hand, lifeless, he brings it to his lips once they got him secured and ready to go.

“I love you.” He whispers, caring very little of what if the others hear – they must likely all know, they didn’t question his presence after all – “I love you, please, stay alive Dimitri.”

“Claude…” Dimitri mumbles, his eyes still closed. Can he hear him? Feel him? “You…betrayed me...”

Claude tries to be rationalized but in this moment, where he holds his love so close to his chest and against such violent words, coming from the person he loves above all else, his defence crumbles, he feels his eyes burning, the knot in his throat is back, he can’t believe it, why would Dimitri be so cruel to him?

“You need to rest my love.” He whispers still, his sight blurred with tears. “We’ll have her another time.”

“You…betrayed…” And Dimitri remains silent after that. Claude kisses his hand again and looks at his face. Are there their last seconds? Perhaps he’ll never see him again, and he can’t even look at the eyes he loves so much.

“Sylvain. Can you take care of something for me?” Claude gets the chess piece from his pocket. “Give it to him once he wakes up. Tell him it’s from me.”

Sylvain offers him a smile, it’s the first one he sees today. “Don’t worry, I think he’ll know, when he’ll have come back to his senses he’ll regret his words and write you a pretty letter, I’m sure of it.”

“Claude.” Gustave puts a hand on his shoulder. “I know this is a bit much to ask and you are probably exhausted yourself, but can you please secure our journey back, at least to Faerghus territory? We’re afraid the Empire had hidden troops, and His Highness’s security might be in danger.”

“Of course.” Ingrid must be waiting for them; she’ll take care of the rest on her Pegasus. “I’ll help you.” He’ll do anything for him.

He flies ahead of the group and encounters no threat. It seems Edelgard has concentrated all her forces against Garreg Mach, which is also good news for the Golden Deers who had escaped. Everyone should be safe.

Claude halts when he sees a forest in front of them. It’s the one they went to for Dimitri’s birthday. Fearghus territory lies just behind, his journey has ended.

He flies closer to their group. “You’re safe now. You only have a couple of kilometres to run.”

“Thank you, Claude.” Sylvain sends him a sympathetic look. Dimitri is still unconscious against his back. It looks like he’s sleeping. He’s calm. It’s as he doesn’t hear them, the voices, not anymore. Claude smiles. He cannot touch him, will perhaps never, again, but it is too frightening to think of lasts, and so Claude flies back to the Alliance without turning back. They already had their goodbyes, once. They promised there won’t be another.

Claude holds on the reins too tight and cries. He cries, shouts the pain away, hot tears blur his sight but Jasmine knows where to go. Under them the land looks peaceful, it’s like there hasn’t been any attack yet, and villagers are living their last moment of peace without being aware of it. Would they have lived differently if they had known? Would Claude have done things differently, from the start, if he had known how things were going to end?

Would he have let himself fall in love with Dimitri?

That is easy to reply. Of course, he would, it is not something he could have escaped, or wanted to. Their love is the only thing that saved him, utterly, from a world of darkness and showed him a better one; Dimitri proved him people can really be better, that Claude’s dream was just not something out of the imagination of an unhappy child who couldn’t find someone to love him.

He arrives on the camp where Judith and her troops have settled an hour later. There are a couple of tents, Holst watches over them, Marianne is healing Lorenz and Raphael when he lands. Upon hearing his arrival, Judith gets off the middle tent.

Her frown disappears the second their eyes meet.

“Oh boy. Don’t tell it is this horrible.”

“We’ve lost, utterly.” His legs aren’t strong enough to hold him anymore, and Claude walks a couple of steps only before he collapses on the weight of this tragedy, the upcoming war and so many dead people on his shoulders. “Teach is gone. Rhea is gone.”

“Impossible.” Judith gasps.

Marianne has run to him, her eyes soon finds his broken fist. “Oh, Claude, what happened to your hand?”

Raphael recognizes the wound of course, and has the delicacy not to say a thing. Instead, he asks, “How are our classmates? Have you seen any of the Blue Lions?”

“They are all fine. Well, except for Ashe but he’ll make it.” Everyone let out a sigh of relief. “What about us? Lorenz, what happened to your rose?”

“I’m afraid I lost it to some dirty opponent, who visibly had no idea of what elegance looks like, or had any sense of dignity.”

If he’s joking this much at least it means he’s all right. “Where are the others?”

“Leonie is gone already, she rode with Lysithea back home. Ignaz is taking care of the others two in the tent.”

“The others two?”

“It can wait until I’ve healed your hand Claude.” Marianne kneels in front of him, her hands are gentle and caring, but Claude shoves his hand away.

He wants the pain. It’s the only string that binds him to Dimitri yet. If he closes his eyes and concentrates, he can hear both their bone cracking at the same time, in unison.

_‘You…betrayed me...’_

Hot tears run on his cheek.

“Oh, Claude, what happened?” Marianne is already taking him in her arms, and he lets the tears fall. Soon he feels a hand on his shoulder, Lorenz’s judging by the size.

“Please. Let her heal you. It’s your dominant hand.”

He won’t be able to use his bow if he waits too long. And they have a war to win.

“Okay.” He surrenders. He bites on his lower lip. He doesn’t want the pain to go, he’s so afraid he won’t feel anything ever again, so scared he won’t feel the warmth of any hand against his. He doesn’t want anyone else to hold his hand than Dimitri.

Yet for this time he lets Marianne do. And she lets him cry on her shoulder when she’s done.

None will ask what truly happen. None will know, but it’s fine, they don’t need to, and they know.

Oh, how much he wishes Hilda were here.

“Claude,” Judith’s voice tells him there’s no time to dwell on his mortified feelings. Yet it’s so easy to forget, when he’s in pain, grieving, for it is really how his separation with Dimitri felt – he mourns their love already for it will never be the same again, and a part of him, of them, died in that battlefield no, it died when the Flame Emperor’s mask fall from Edelgard’s face – that Judith is a woman of a certain age and that she has, certainly, been in love before, it’s so easy to forget he isn’t the only man in the world who feels such despair and rage, for being forced to punch his own lover in order to save him from himself. Claude loves and hates all the same when it comes to Dimitri, and no man, or woman, is allowed to be hurt as much as he is. Judith won’t give him the proper time to grieve, and he’ll be mad at her for days. “I need you to come inside. I don’t know what to do with these two.”

Beside him Lorenz encourages him to follow her. “I think your assistance is gladly needed.”

“He asked for you, personally.” Judith gets back inside the tent without looking behind if Claude caught her clue, she knows him too well, she knows there’s only a few thing Claude loves more than mysteries and games, and she just started one.

Ignaz comes to attention as soon as Claude appears. Under the tent he recognizes, easy, Ferdinand and his ginger hair. His face has known better times, it’s covered with cuts and bruises and someone might have stepped on it while he was down; his arm is broken, his eyes as well, they look to the ground. “I am sure this might put you in a tough position.”

Claude couldn’t have said better. He knew, at some point, that Ferdinand would have to make a choice towards which his allegiance goes to, but this early? What about his father, the Empire, what about Edelgard?

“I’ll leave the three of you alone. Ignaz, come with me.” Judith exits the tent shortly after Claude recovers from this first chock. Is it always going to be like this? Revelation after revelation, not living a single day that goes as planned, is this what it feels like to be at war?

“Three?” Claude repeats.

Ferdinand sits in front of a bed that is occupied indeed, and its resident seems to be sleeping deeply. Claude finds it rather amusing that, no matter the circumstances, Linhardt seems to be able to do whatever he pleases and enjoys best, presently, resting.

Ferdinand tells him what happened and what bought them here. Linhardt tried to convince Caspar to disobey his father and stay with him, since Hanneman had sort of promised he will find a place for him to stay and pursuit his studies. Caspar refused, and then torn between his believes and his father’s will, pushes by Edelgard, was beaten during the battle and taken back to the Empire territory by his father’s men. Linhardt ran after him.

“This is when I found him. They beat him…nearly to death.” Linhardt has his head covered with bandages and bruises on his neck and chest. Marianne did a bit of a miracle, without her he would have been dead. “I lied, saying I’ll bring him back to Edelgard myself. My decision was made the moment I saw what they were ready to do to their own children. I cannot let this infamy go on in my name. I’ll fight the Empire. I’ll fight Edelgard and her horrendous methods.” He explains.

Which does not tell them where Ferdinand will stay. They need to hide him as far as possible from the Empire’s territory, which means he cannot stay with Lorenz who so kindly proposed. He’ll have to ask Marianne, or Holst perhaps, or why not in Derdriu?

“I’ll go wherever I can be the best needed.” He says when Claude exposes his plan. “I just ask to be of use, whatever it might be.”

“You’re of a great help, thank you Ferdinand.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do much. I’ll have lost all my titles and fortune, if not already, by tomorrow.”

“I’m sure Linhardt will say otherwise.” They both look at his sleeping face. They smile. “He would be dead without you.”

“Claude, before you arrived he was barely conscious. He asked for you. There is something he wanted to talk to you about in private.”

Claud holds his breath. Linhardt is too clever not to have something dangerous to say. “In private you say? Did he mention anything else?” Is it about Dimitri? He knew after all. He knew and never said a thing.

“I’m afraid I don’t! But if I did, what’s the point of meeting you privately?”

Claude smiles, Ferdinand is a nice fellow, he’s a bit sad of why they will finally have the opportunity to know each other better.

They are still waiting for a few students from the Alliance to come back – or not, Judith went to check for corpses or survivors with a couple of her men. Claude stayed inside the tent, watching over Linhardt restlessly; he couldn’t leave without knowing what the mage had in mind.

His will is answered a couple of minutes later. Linhardt groans, “Water.” He mumbles, to which Claude promptly replied with a jar of fresh water wetting his lips. It’s enough, he’s still weak.

“Claude, is that you?” How could he guess with his eyes closed? “I recognize your scent.”

“I’m afraid it’s only me.”

“Good.” He opens his eyes weakly, they are blotched red. “Are we alone?”

“Ferdinand said there was something you wanted to talk to me about, but is it this urgent? We need to leave soon; you won’t make it without damages if we don’t show you to a high priest.”

“Well, I’d rather wait until I am perfectly healed to have this sort of conversation with you, but I feel it wouldn’t be fair to you. You have to decide of my sake yourself after all, and I don’t think you will want to do such if you don’t know fully all of I know.”

“How many secrets to you hold close to your heart then? Is it about the Empire?”

“No. It’s about you.”

Claude almost falls from his chair. There is one thing he might know that they haven’t discussed yet, but, really? How did he find out?

“You come from Almyra. Imagine what a scandal it would make, if anyone here knew their future leader has half the enemy’s blood running in his veins?”

“What is it then Linhardt, what is this whole conversation about?” His hand goes on his calf where it is holding his dagger. Linhardt follows the movement with serenity, as if he had anticipated it. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“No, of course not. I am not this sort of man, blackmailing takes too much effort. I just want to have a happy and quiet life.”

“Me too. Alas, Time and History don’t leave us much of a choice. What is it you truly want?” Claude speaks harshly.

“First, I wanted to see how far you’ll go to protect your secret. And I feel you’ll kill me on the spot if you don’t trust me enough by the end of our conversation, which was quite what I expected, as I imagined how much of an hell your life had been.” Linhardt winces, he spoke too much and too shortly after his awakening. “Second, as I said, I hate fighting more than anything. Now that the Monastery has fallen and my father allied with Edelgard, I have nowhere to go.”

“You’re asking the Alliance to accommodate you?”

“No, I’m asking you. I trust you.” Linhardt turns to him. “I don’t care where you come from, I’ve had time to see how you work Claude, and I like the kind of man you are, the kind of leader you aspire to be. In that prospect, I’ll be very honoured to be part of your territory and help you as much as I can, if I stay of course outside of the battlefield.”

“And what are you going to do exactly, making banners with Hilda and cheer on us?” Claude says, using sarcasm – he can’t believe he has only a few minutes left to decide on what to do with Linhardt. He knows his secret, his life alone is a threat for Claude, and a couple of moons ago things would have been different. Now they’re at war, and Claude wants to stay, so much, for so many reasons. He can’t just turn his heels and run away. He can’t!

He wants to fight this war. He wants to defeat Edelgard. He wants to build this bright dream he has for Fódlan and he wants to do it with Dimitri.

But is it really the kind of leader he wants to be? Murdering his old friends because they know too much?

Linhardt said he didn’t care and liked him. He has nothing to lose. He’s broken in every possible way, trying to save his friend Caspar and he ran for help. Who’s got more to lose, telling him he knew about his origin?

Linhardt risked it because he wanted Claude to know the truth. Linhardt is honest, and it is perhaps, Claude’s biggest weakness.

He’ll need to work on that for the time to comes.

“One condition.” Claude lets go of his dagger. The air is easier to breathe. “You’ll stay with me in Derdriu. Not in the Palace, but in Deridue. We’ve got a big library with books from all over the world. It’s not as rich as in Garreg Mach, but-“

Linhardt holds his wrist with his broken hand. “Thank you.” A silent tear runs on his cheek. “Thank you so much.”

It never occurs to him that Linhardt wanted to live so much before, but Claude guesses he isn’t the only one with a strong will to survive after all. They all have, if they made it this far.

And yet they are standing against the Empire. A formidable opponent, who destroyed the Church of Seiros with one single attack.

“One last thing, and I’ll come back to sleep.” Linhardt closes his eyes, exhausted. “Save Caspar, if you can.”

Claude holds his hand, he does until Linhardt lets it go.

Judith comes back with more corpses than survivors. They reach Derdriu a couple of days later.

* * *

Le temps d'apprendre à vivre il est déjà trop tard, que pleurent dans la nuit nos cœurs à l'unisson. Ce qu'il faut de malheur pour la moindre chanson, ce qu'il faut de regrets pour payer un frisson, ce qu'il faut de sanglots pour un air de guitare.

Il n'y a pas d'amour heureux.

* * *

_Blue sea moon, 16 th of July, year 1191._

Against the window Claude hides behind a curtain, in their Palace of Derdriu where the second war council is about to take place, and spies on the horses and carriages arriving to their entrance where his grandfather is welcoming their guests. It is hot and warm, but not too much thanks to the storm that broke out the day before, and there’s not a single cloud in the sky. From time to time, Claude diverts his eyes to gaze at it. It almost looks like the sky back home. He smiles.

They are waiting for a messenger from the Kingdom.

“Claude, you promised you will teach me how to play.” Hilda complains.

She sits behind him, his chessboard is untouched on the table.

“You’ve never played in your entire life? How can this be?” He jokes, his eyes come back to the visitors coming inside. Lorenz just arrived along with his father. Is his hair a bit longer?

“Of course I did. But I forgot. It’s too tiresome to remember how all the pieces work.”

He holds his breath: a cavalier just arrived with a coat. It’s burning outside. He must come from a place much cooler, and it can only mean he comes from one place. The Kingdom. It’s the messenger.

Thank the Goddess he made it back alive.

He hasn’t heard of Dimitri for three whole moons. Nor from the other Blue Lions for what it’s worth, and Sylvain might have told him about His Highness and his wellbeing, the others didn’t care enough about him for one of them to speak of this. The day they part plays on repeat in his head, sometimes his fist hurts, and he knows it’s all in his head but somehow, he is glad that certain things, as he has feared, never went away.

Once they will know how the Kingdom is doing after Dimitri’s coronation, they can articulate on a better counterattack. The Imperial’s forces have suffered quite a blow at the battle of Garreg Mach, as it will be remembered in History Books, and if they want to hope for victory one day, they need to attack, quick and strong.

He can’t wait for the council to end. He already has, at least, a dozen of plans and each one of them has at some point a moment where Claude and Dimitri walk side by side, and can hold hands and be in love oblivious to the rest of the world.

He walks to Hilda with a smile on his face. “Okay, let me tell you again.” He opens his chessboard and takes a black pawn. “This is a pawn. Weak piece. Lots of it, very important, most important if you’re not careful, can make you lose or win the game.” He puts the first one in place, then a second, and Hilda helps him finish the line.

“Aren’t all the pieces important?” Hilda asks, she already seems bored, oh he loves this side of her. It’s like they aren’t even at war when they talk.

“Yes, you’re right. Anyway, they can only move from one case, and eat in diagonal. Now, the Rocks. Think of Raphael. Go straight in every four directions. Then the Bishop! Same, but in diagonal.”

“Yeah yeah.” Hilda puts the second on next to the Rock. “Same but not in the same direction. Not the same at all.”

“You’re being difficult. Then we have the Knights – ah tricky one, the Knight. It moves by doing an ‘L’.”

“See, this is why I’ve stopped playing chess. It doesn’t even make any sense!”

“Well, it’s the rules. They never make sense that’s why we must write them down. Otherwise, everything would be utter chaos. Now we have, the most powerful piece of all, the Queen.” He puts the black Queen on the board. “She can do everything. Go everywhere she pleases.”

“I thought it was the King. Aren’t you supposed to defend the King?”

“Yes, but the King can’t do much, he can only move from one case, but in all the direction. But if he falls, the game is over.”

“And if the Queen falls?” she asks.

“Then the game is on. It’s just a bit more difficult to win, but,” he thinks tenderly of this time they played with Dimitri and he used the Legal Trap to win, “It’s not impossible, if you’re clever enough.”

“Then we should play,” Hilda takes the black Queen from the board, “Like this. So I can have a chance to win.”

“Handicaps? Why not. I’m in.”

“Oh, you wish you weren’t.”

The door opens. Judith and Holst enter the scene. “Claude, the meeting is about to start.”

“Alright young lady, we’ll play later. Or perhaps Judith can play with you? She has as much patience with this as you do, she would be a better partner than I.”

“Why not? It would be my pleasure.” She walks to them and takes Claude’s place.

“It’s a shame you aren’t allowed at the council’s table anymore.” Hilda mumbles, obviously not happy to have not found a reason not to play. “You’ll be more useful than these two combined.”

Holst is still at the door. Claude can’t make him wait so long. “Well, milady, I’ll see you soon.” He bows and trots to the council with Holst.

_(Claude goes._

“So,” Judith takes back the black Queen and puts it back in its place. “You don’t play chess.”

“Oh, I do. I just wanted to surprise him a bit to win, at least _once_.” Hilda looks for the only piece that holds her interest. The white King, the one Dimitri gave him for his birthday. “Ah! There it is.”

“Oh my, what is this thing?”

“Oh, don’t say it that way in front of Claude, he _adores_ it. It’s a gift.” She eyes Judith, not knowing if she should tell so much about Claude’s secret life once more, in case of being murdered on the spot. “From a close friend.”

“And is that friend blind? Or clumsy?”

Hilda looks for the right word while looking at the back of the piece – Judith should better never see the Blaiddyd’s crest if Claude wants his secret safe. “Let’s say he isn’t good with meticulous thing. Ah ah! I knew it!” Hilda pushes on the emblem and the piece detached into two. Inside the King, there’s a small parchment. Judith stands up on the spot.

“What is it? Is it a threat?” She takes the piece of paper before Hilda can hide it from her; she gasps, of course, because knowing who gave it to Claude and when, there’s no doubt of what kind of content the secret note is about. “…Hilda. Who gave it to Claude?”

She feels trapped by her own stupidity. But why did Dimitri leave anything inside it in first place!? “What does it say?”

“ _’My dear Claude,_ ’” Judith reads, “ _’Let this gift be a reminder, at all times, of the three words I am too shy to confess, but of which my heart is full of. You’re my white King, and I’ll defend you forever.’_ A close friend, you said?”

“A…very close friend?” Hilda replies, her hands busy to set the white piece of the board not to look at Judith.

“Hilda. Please. Could it be the Prince of Faerghus?” She asks so seriously, a shiver runs down Hilda’s spine.

She still avoids her gaze though. “It might be.” She shows her the crest to prove her point, there’s no point in hiding now, and Hilda has a feeling Claude didn’t care enough to hide this piece from the whole world, or at least to the person who happened to live in the Palace. He can only blame himself if Judith found out after all!

“Oh no. Hilda, tell me, was Claude in love with the Prince as well?”

“ _Was_? Are you kidding me? He’s still so madly in love with him! He doesn’t talk much about him now but I see it, in his eyes, when he thinks about him he looks sad and older, and it is all the time these days.”

“You’re his best friend, right?”

Hilda frowns. She wants to leave. She doesn’t really know why, but she doesn’t want to participate in this conversation anymore.

“I must warn you then, news from the Kingdom aren’t good. Rufus, the regent and Dimitri’s uncle, was murdered. Prince Dimitri was accused of treason. He’s locked in a cell right now, and they are rumours that he’ll be executed soon.”

Hilda gasps, her hands come in front of her mouth. “This cannot be! Claude would be devastated!” He’ll never get over this. He loves him too much not to feel like dying himself. “How do you know about that?”

“My spies are…quicker than old Riegan’s I’m afraid. And since I’m not in the council anymore I must fight with my own weapons. In any case, there are high risks Claude will get out of the war council broken if what you tell me is true.”

“It is.” Hilda says gravely. She has never wished it not to be. “They loved each other, they do still, and very much.”

“Then you’ll have to be strong, for him.” Judith puts the white pawns on their line, Hilda too stunned to help her set the game. “He’ll need you more than ever. He’ll need people that loves him and who he loves as well, to show him life doesn’t stop at one person dying.”

Hilda slowly nods. “It’ll be impossible. Teach, then Dimitri. What are we going to do?”

“Well, it seems we aren’t going to play, that’s for sure. We’re short of one piece.”

Hilda looks at the board and in the box, and indeed Judith speaks the truth only.

The white Queen is missing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all I'd like to thank everyone of you, who read and left kudos and left comments here. You made this crazy fic possible by your encouragement, silent or not, and it gave me the strength to go through this hell of a story in one piece, and made me adore it even more.  
> Also I'd like to thank my little brother, without whom I will never have played fe3h.  
> I'm quite emotional right now because I love them so much, but the canon universe is so sad, and I love sad love stories. These two were made for me.  
> The poem is of Aragon, one of my favourite poet. There's a last strophe, by the way. The song in the link is the version of the movie "8 femmes" by François Ozon, and the singer is the late Danielle Darrieux, who was 85 years old when she recorded it. Very good movie too.
> 
> I am quite happy I never quiver and wrote everything as it was the first time I thought about it, especially the ending, and I hope you won't cry too much or hate me too much. To think the first scene I had in mind was the one where Claude and Dimitri drink the poisoned tea and do...things...and now, I look back, five or six months later, at what I've done and I can't quite understand how it turned out like this. Why ???  
> I've never written this much, for anything. This fic is really important to be, and I hope it was for some of you as well.  
> As I know I'm not ready to let go of these two so soon, if some of you are the same and would like to cry and shout about it with me, the comment section is made for it, or you also have my twitter. Come follow me here!
> 
> Now, I must answer a question that I have been avoiding for a while. Will there be a post time skip suite?  
> Do the boys deserve happiness ????
> 
> Hum, I think they do.  
> I really want to make one, that will more or less, follow canon, but not as strictly as this first part. I a just hoping I will have the time to do it, and I also want to have a clear plot in mind before I post anything. Moreover, I'm working onother big project (dimiclaud bigbang I'm staring at you!!) and I'm working way to much to do everything at once! So, yes, I wrote the Legal Trap to have a sequel, there are enough clues here and there to suggest they will be one, but you'll have to be patient I'm afraid!
> 
> It's always difficult to say goodbye, but I've been pushing this date for so long. I wrote the last word on July the 16th after all.
> 
> So Goodbye to my boys.  
> And See you later, to you dear readers?
> 
> Queenie.

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is named after a chess mat by the way
> 
> You can follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/doctor_queenie) to scream about dimiclaude with me <3


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